#what it meant to me when i chose it. and later it may mean something different. and i'll be able to see how my feelings toward it change

[whenstarsundress]

“my love doesn’t like kissing on the lips.”

sylus

sylus would absolutely respect the boundary without hesitation. he’s deeply emotionally attuned and careful with physical intimacy, especially after what he’s been through. he’d probably say something soft like, “as long as i get to love you, i don’t care how i show it.”

he’d notice your comfort zones immediately and redirect his kisses to your forehead, hands, shoulders. anywhere that earns a soft smile from you.

he might offer to explore it slowly, like, “if you ever change your mind, we can take it one step at a time. no pressure. just us.” but it would never be pushy.

bonus:

“thank you for trusting me. i’ll never ask you for more than what you’re comfortable with.” it’s never about where he kisses you. it’s about what he’s telling you with his touch. and if you ever want to try again, even years from now? he’ll be right there, patient, waiting, hand in yours.

zayne

zayne would care less than you think. this man is a flirt, but he’s also adaptable. if you don’t like mouth kissing? that’s okay. he’ll just kiss you somewhere else—your wrist, your collarbone, the inside of your thigh.

he’d probably smile and say, “kissing’s not just about lips, my love.” and then prove that he meant it thoroughly.

you might actually be the one who ends up flustered when he finds new places to worship with his mouth, because zayne doesn’t just accept boundaries, he thrives within them.

bonus:

“if i can’t kiss your mouth, i’ll just kiss the rest of you until you melt anyway.” he whispers and kisses you behind the ear. sweet, soft, and absolutely understanding. zayne never makes you feel weird. he just wants to show his affection, wherever you’ll let him.

caleb

caleb would be the most sensitive about it at first, not because he doesn’t respect boundaries, but because he’s so physically affectionate and tends to equate kissing with emotional connection.

he might get quiet the first time you turn your face away, but once he understands, he’d nod and just gently tease you. “guess i’ll just have to get really good at neck kisses instead, huh?”

over time, he’d lean into the ‘practice makes perfect’ route only (!) if you opened the door first. like, if you said, “i think i want to try,” he’d grin and go, “i promise to make it worth your while.”

bonus:

“i’m not here for what i want. i’m here for what we have.” then, without asking, he leans forward and kisses your hand, your wrist, the inside of your forearm. he doesn’t bring it up again. he doesn’t need to. “i don’t need your mouth. you already gave me your heart.”

xavier

xavier would freeze for a second. he’s not great with unexpected intimacy shifts. but once he computes it, he’d give a clipped nod like, “noted.”

but later, he’d go out of his way to research alternative ways of intimacy. expect subtle but thoughtful changes; longer hugs, holding your face while staring into your eyes, kisses on your temple while working.

if you ever felt guilty about it, he’d say something like, “don’t apologize for being the way you are. i chose you. that means all of you.”

bonus:

he loves kissing. it’s poetic to him, soulful. but he’s also deeply romantic, and that means meeting you where you are, not where he imagines you should be. “your lips may not be mine to kiss, but your smile is mine to protect.”

rafayel

rafayel would initially be genuinely curious. not judgmental, just inquisitive. “is it sensory? emotional? a past experience?”

once you explained your reasons or even just said, “i’m not sure—i just don’t like it,” he’d immediately drop it. he’d even help you feel more confident about it, saying things like, “your body is a temple, and i’m lucky to be invited to worship. wherever you let me.”

you might catch him studying your face when you laugh or look away, but it’s admiration, not necessarily longing. he’d be respectful to the point of making sure you never feel like you’re missing something.

bonus:

he might be a little dramatic about it. he mourns the loss of kissing with all the flair of a man being exiled from a country he never visited. but rafayel never pushes. never crosses the line. instead, he gets creative. “oh, you won’t kiss me? guess i’ll just… have to bite you then.”

author’s note: sometimes i can’t decide in which direction i want to go with a headcanon, so, i went with a little bonus 😊

[blackcatsnest]

The meaning of "Solas" and its influences

While researching lore for my solavellan fanfic (if you are interest, see here), I came across something intriguing that I haven’t seen much discussion about in the fandom. Solas once said, “I was Solas first. Fen’Harel came later. An insult I took as a badge of pride.” This implies that Solas was his original and "only" name before he chose to rebel against his kins.

This raises an interesting question: do spirits even use names? From what I remember (and correct me if I am wrong), in the game spirits are typically referred to by their nature—Spirit of Justice is Justice, Demon of Spite is Spite, and so on. The only exception is Cole, but he gained his name by assuming the identity of the real Cole. This suggests that spirits don’t have the same sense of individualism as mortals. However, if they embody or manifest in a physical form, they might adopt a name that reflects their nature or experiences. This leads to an interesting possibility: Solas might not have had a name until Mythal crafted him a body. But why would Solas, a spirit of wisdom, choose a name associated with pride? (And it can also mean 'stand tall,' which carries a more positive aspect while still hinting at pridefulness—thanks for the reminder from @smoggyfogbottom )Here are two potential theories:

Theory 1: The trauma of becoming physical twisted his essence into pride.

The process of taking on a body is said to be very traumatic, maybe that altered Solas at his core, leading him to identify himself as pride rather than wisdom. However, I find this theory unconvincing. At the beginning of their creation, the Evanuris were still performing good deeds, and Solas served Mythal and her people as an advisor. This indicates that the spiritual purpose of the Evanuris wasn’t significantly altered right away. While the act of taking on a body may have been distressing, it likely wasn’t as severe as the transformation spirits undergo when crossing the Veil and becoming demons instantly. Thus, there’s little reason for Solas to call himself "pride" immediately after gaining a body.

Theory 2: The name originally meant wisdom, but the meaning changed over time.

It’s possible that the word Solas initially conveyed the idea of wisdom or something closely related, but its meaning was later distorted to represent pride. This wouldn’t be the first instance of a name or term being twisted over time. For example, the meaning of Fen’Harel has been confirmed to have changed. According to the Codex, Fen’Harel does not mean “God of Deception” or “Trickster,” but rather “God of Rebellion” or even “God of Noble Struggle.”

----

Codex entry: The Rebel God The Dalish use "Harellan" to mean "traitor to one's kin," but the word does not appear in any elven text before the Towers Age. The ancient root-word is related to "harillen," or opposition, and "hellathen," or noble struggle. The Dalish call Fen'Harel a god of deception, but I posit a far more accurate translation would be "god of rebellion." What he rebelled against is a story lost to time. In Dalish legends, Fen'Harel seals away the other deities out of love of trickery. If we understood more ancient elven, we might find earlier versions of the Dread Wolf's story give him a more nuanced motivation beyond spite.

-From A Treaty on the Pagan and Heretical Customs of the Elven, by Senallen Tavernier of the University of Orlais, commissioned by Empress Celene.

---

If this distortion of meaning could happen with Fen’Harel, it’s plausible that the name Solas experienced a similar fate. The question then becomes: when did this shift in meaning occur?

The Codex notes that the word Harellan—first appeared in the Towers Age. This suggests that the meaning of the root of the word, Fen’Harel, and the related terms Solas, were changed much earlier, potentially as soon as Solas led the rebellion. The Evanuris likely employed highly effective propaganda to paint their enemy in a negative light, which endured for thousands of years.

But where were Solas’s supporters and allies in all this? After the Veil was created and its devastating consequences unfolded, many likely turned against him, resenting him for the chaos and suffering that followed. Others may have felt betrayed or abandoned. Over time, they may have forgotten that it was Solas who freed them from slavery, focusing instead on the cost of his actions.

An additional point of interest lies in the timing of the word Harellan’s emergence in the Towers Age. This coincides with the birth of Flemeth and her eventual possession by Mythal. The Codex containing this information is found in the Temple of Mythal, which seems too significant to dismiss as mere coincidence. Could Flemeth/Mythal have influenced the Towers Age Dalish to create Harellan and deepen the misrepresentation of Fen’Harel’s true nature?

If so, what was Mythal/Flemeth’s motivation? We know that Mythal and Solas’s relationship was never a healthy one—there were certainly elements of manipulation involved, and many people even believe Mythal was abusive towards him. Perhaps she still harbored grudges against him? Having a trusted subordinate rebel against you would have been both humiliating and deeply personal. In some ways, Solas’s actions may have even contributed to her death. So she seeks revenge, even after all these years? We have no way to be certain. But her action did denied Solas further from his legacy as a liberator. Now he is reduced to a villain in the eyes of future generations completely.

This is why I think Mythal is definitely not the noble and innocent figure Solas would like us to believe, and why their relationship may not have been a romantic one. I imagine their dynamic to be more like a superior and subordinate, or perhaps a mother and son, mixed with thousands of years of friendship. In one word—complicated. I also believe there’s more to the story of Andraste, who is implied to have been possessed by Mythal at some point. Morrigan once remarked that Andraste “runs off and falls in love with a wild man,” suggesting that she and Maferath had a genuine emotional bond. If there is no Maker, as Solas claims, why then would Maferath become jealous and betray Andraste? Could it be that Mythal sought to destroy the Tevinter Imperium to restore Elven glory, but the war dragged on for too long? Perhaps Maferath saw no end in sight and felt it was all spiraling out of control. This would be an interesting topic to explore further.

But back to our current discussion: the impact of these shifts in meaning is significant. Imagine waking up with the hope of seeing a better future, only to find that everyone now calls you a traitor. While Dragon Age lore doesn’t specifically state that names influence people directly, it’s common sense that names represent how others perceive you—and this perception undoubtedly affects self-image. Over time, even Solas begins to acknowledge himself as the God of Lies, believing deception is inherent to his nature, even though he uses lies only as tactics.

And let’s be honest—he’s a terrible liar! He leaves hints everywhere, unable to fully conceal the truth. Moreover, spirits reflect people’s thoughts and emotions, and at his core, Solas is still a spirit. Can we blame him for struggling under the weight of these misinterpretations and the world’s expectations?

It seems Lavellan understood his nature better than most. She said, “Lies of the heart? No.” That simple statement cuts to the truth of who he is.

[slattlicker]

I REALLY like the direction you took my man tits story idea! But I gotta ask….

Can you do a part 2 to the study of the schlitties? And somehow a trailered dress (for schlatt), curlers, and makeup are involved? Don’t ask, they’re just an important part of the scientific process.

Idk, I just love stories where someone explores their gender identity (or gender presentation in schlatt’s case) intimately with their beloved (or beloveds ;3).

Idk how you’ll fit that into the story, you can a few things if you want, but I’m confident in your writing skills! ^^

╭﹐✦˚₊· 𖤐 * titty couture ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ ╮ imagine: your fashion project needs a model. your boyfriend fits the dress a little too well. a few curlers, some gloss, and a whole lot of ass appreciation later—you both discover something new. ╰﹒♡₊˚๑ *✧﹒✦ ࣪ ˖ ┊

﹒₊✦ a/n: to the anon who requested more of the peer-reviewed tit study—this one’s for you ♡ thank you for the wild, wonderful prompt!! we’ve traded nursing for needlework and slipped schlatt into something just his size. may the schloobs live on in every discipline.

warnings: gender presentation experimentation · sfw sensuality · dress & makeup exploration · fashion student!reader · soft dom!reader vibes · handsy kisses · sweet teasing · glossy lips

✧✧✧

you didn’t expect it to look this right on the first try.

not with the way schlatt had slouched into your apartment, smelling like road salt and convenience store coffee, arms heavy with old hoodies and brand-new opinions. you hadn’t even taken full measurements—just a few scribbles on a napkin, a couple “stand still”s while he grumbled about cold fingers and fabric tape.

but now, watching him in front of the mirror, half-turned, tugging the side seam a little flatter over his ribs—you can’t stop staring.

because it fits.

because he fits in it.

it’s not finished, of course. not even close. the hem is raw. the side zipper’s only basted. one of the shoulder darts needs to be let out by half a centimeter or it’ll pucker in photos. but still.

still.

this works.

it’s a deep navy silk-cotton blend. matte under warm light, but luminous when he shifts. you chose it deliberately—something structured enough to hold shape, but soft enough to drape where it should. you wanted to play with tension. with silhouette. with how people expect something to hang.

and schlatt, with his broad shoulders and tired eyes and legs longer than god ever intended—was the only model you trusted with this specific silhouette.

“you didn’t say it was gonna be this tight,” he mutters, turning a little to try and see his own ass.

“it’s supposed to fit,” you murmur, mostly to your thread spool. “i drafted it on your frame.”

“you drafted it on my soul, jesus.”

you glance up.

he looks good. better than you thought he would. like he was always meant to be in clean lines and back darts and soft curvature. like he’s a little confused by the way it all looks—but not uncomfortable. just… taking it in.

you know that look. you’ve had it yourself. it’s the “wait—is this allowed?” face.

is this allowed to feel good?

is it allowed to look good on me?

you step forward, pin cushion still strapped to your wrist. gently smooth the center seam flat with your hand. you feel him breathe in—reflex, maybe. the dress tightens slightly across his chest.

“don’t hold your breath,” you murmur. “you’ll mess with the draping.”

he laughs. it’s soft.

you pin the dart a little deeper and step back.

and when he turns to look at himself again—really look—you see something flicker in his expression. something quiet. curious.

“...huh,” he says, voice lower now.

and you don’t ask what it means.

not yet.

you just step back, tilt your head, and take him in again—like a garment on a form, like a painting you’re still finishing in your mind. he shifts under your gaze, eyes flicking to your hands, your mouth, then back to his reflection like he doesn’t quite know which one to focus on.

“you okay?” you ask.

he scoffs. “’m fine. just… didn’t think I’d look good.”

you nod, slow. “you do.”

his throat bobs.

you move closer—quiet steps, no rush. let your fingers trail along the back seam, smoothing the fabric again. the way he shivers slightly under your touch isn’t lost on you.

“can i ask you something?”

he shrugs, cautious. “you’re gonna either way.”

“would you model for me?”

he looks at you, finally. really looks. “like, what—photos?”

you nod. “maybe video, too. simple stuff. in the studio. just for the class. for the final.”

he swallows again.

you soften your voice just slightly, enough to slip past the little defenses he keeps in his posture.

“you don’t have to. but I think you’d be really, really good at it.”

he stares at you like he wants to believe you—but doesn’t quite know how.

you take another step forward, slowly reaching up to adjust the collar of the dress. then, lighter, barely teasing:

“you’ve already got the rack for it.”

his snort breaks the tension. “jesus christ.”

“what?” you smile. “i’m being objective.”

he shakes his head, biting back a grin—but you can see the flush rising at his ears. a little proud. a little shy. a little something else.

you tap his hip. “sit down. i want to do your makeup.”

he blinks. “now?”

“you’re in the look, baby. can’t stop in the middle of a process.”

“i look fine.”

“you look great. and you’re gonna look better once I get some color on you.”

he mumbles something that might be agreement. you gently guide him into the chair with a hand at his waist. and when he sits, you brush the hair back from his face—half for utility, half just to touch him—and say, soft as silk:

“let me make you even prettier.”

he doesn’t argue.

✧ ✧ ✧

you don’t rush the makeup.

you know better.

you start with moisturizer—cool on his skin, your fingers smoothing it in like habit, like worship. he watches you in the mirror, quiet, still a little skeptical—but not resisting.

next: primer. then foundation. light coverage. just enough to even out his skin. a touch of blush—something soft, peachy, that picks up the flush still lingering in his cheeks.

he blinks when you lean in with the eyeliner pencil.

“don’t move,” you murmur.

“i’m not.”

“you’re being twitchy.”

“you’re terrifying with a sharpened pencil near my eye.”

"this is actually pretty dull," you hum. “baby, if I wanted to hurt you, I’d pick something heavier.”

his mouth twitches at that.

you press a thumb to the edge of his cheekbone and draw the line slow, steady. it suits him. dark lashes. heavy lids. the kind of bone structure that carries a little sharpness well. you don’t go overboard—just a little lift at the outer corner. enough to make his eyes look deeper. darker.

he doesn’t speak again until you’re swiping gloss onto his bottom lip.

“you’re being suspiciously gentle.”

you smile. “you’re being suspiciously pretty.”

his throat bobs.

you don’t say anything else. you wipe your hands on a cloth, tug the hair curlers gently free—just a few, soft curls brushing his jaw now—and step back.

“ready to see?”

he hesitates.

and then he nods.

you angle the mirror toward him.

he blinks.

leans closer.

his hand comes up—brushes his jaw, then his collarbone, then the curve of his chest through the dress.

his lips part.

“...holy shit.”

you smile.

he shifts a little in the seat, pulling the hem of the dress straighter, eyes dragging over his own form. when he reaches the seam along his chest, his fingers hover—like he’s unsure if he’s allowed to touch.

you lean down. press a kiss just behind his ear.

“told you. fucking gorgeous.”

he turns, just slightly, eyes still a little stunned. “you really think so?”

you slide your hands up his arms. over his shoulders. down to his waist.

“schlatt,” you murmur, voice low and full of heat. “i think this dress was wasted on a mannequin. it belongs on you.”

your hands settle at his hips, squeezing gently.

“you’ve got the tits and the ass for it.”

he lets out the smallest, most scandalized laugh—but he’s grinning. cheeks pink. chest rising fast.

“jesus christ, woman.”

“what?” you ask innocently, fingers trailing down to his thighs. “just telling the truth.”

you tug him gently to his feet.

✧✧✧

he follows. quietly. his fingers twitch slightly at his sides, like he doesn’t know what to do with them now that you’ve taken his waist in your hands and said something like that.

you guide him to the chair in the center of your studio setup—gently angled toward the window light, worn velvet seat, curling iron still cooling on the side table next to a pile of soda cans and hair clips. he lowers himself slowly. the dress shifts as he sits, fabric folding softly around his legs, catching against the edge of the cushion. he exhales once, steady. then again, shakier.

you brush the hair back from his forehead, then run your fingers lightly through it.

"just relax," you murmur.

he snorts under his breath. "relax, she says. while she’s about to soda-can perm my head."

"it’s temporary. don’t be dramatic."

"tell that to my scalp."

still, he doesn’t pull away. doesn’t flinch when you start sectioning his hair, or when you lift the comb. he goes quiet again, letting you move him, adjust him, arrange him. one can, then two. the curlers gleam under the light, soft and silly and strangely sweet.

the room is quiet, save for the soft metallic clink of each pin snapping shut and the whisper of your breath against his cheek. your fingers are warm, steady, methodical. his eyes stay on the floor for a long time. his posture stiff at first—tense at the neck, shoulders set like he’s expecting something he can’t quite name.

you press a palm to the top of his head and smooth one curl in place.

"you okay?" you ask, gently.

he shifts. clears his throat.

"yeah," he says. "just... didn’t think I’d be spending my weekend in drag."

"this isn't really drag. not unless you want to be...?"

his mouth twitches, like he wants to joke again, but it gets tangled in his throat. instead, he nods. shakes his head. nods.

"nah. I know. it’s not that. it’s just..." he trails off. the soda can in your hand hovers by his shoulder, waiting.

"just what?"

he fidgets, fingers curling on the edge of the seat. then he sighs, low and slow.

"it actually feels kinda nice. that’s the problem."

the silence between you is soft. open.

"what does nice feel like?"

he shrugs one shoulder. "like... i’m not faking anything. like i can just sit here and not be a joke. even with all this ridiculous shit in my hair."

you carefully roll another section, pin it in place.

"you’re not a joke, schlatt."

he huffs a laugh. not bitter, but not light either.

"tell that to the voice in my head that spent the last ten years making sure i never wore anything tighter than a hoodie."

you pause.

"is it saying anything now?"

he thinks about it. really thinks.

"mmm. kind of. it's mostly confused."

you brush your hand over his cheek.

"confused is okay," you say. "confused just means you’re trying something new."

"and you’re okay with that?"

"schlatt."

you tilt his chin toward the mirror. let him see.

"i think you look beautiful. but more importantly—you look like you. even if it’s a new version. even if you’re still figuring it out."

his reflection stares back. curlers in, eyes wide, cheeks pink. the dress hugs him just right. the way it was meant to.

"you don’t think i’m... less of a guy for liking it?"

you step closer.

"no," you say. "i think you’re more you for letting yourself like it."

he exhales. the sound is shaky. real. then lets his shoulders relax.

"god. you’re such a nerd."

"takes one to love one."

he smiles a bit more at that. and you kiss the top of his head. soft. reverent.

"you ready for the camera?"

he meets your eyes in the mirror.

"yeah," he says. "but only if i get to smize."

✧ ✧ ✧

the first few shots are slow. gentle. his hands settle awkwardly at first—one on his hip, the other brushing his curls out of his eyes—and you coo encouragement from behind the lens.

"tilt your chin. good. now give me the 'i just discovered i’m a baddie' look."

he snorts. "that’s not a real look."

"it is if you make it one."

but then something shifts. the tension in his shoulders melts as he laughs, and then really laughs, eyes crinkling, mouth soft and open. you catch it in a single shot—click—just as his head tips back. radiant.

"now lift the skirt a little," you say. "show a little thigh. for science."

"you’re evil."

"evil and yet, i am correct. c’mon. hike it."

he smirks, tugging the hem up dramatically. "like this, you menace?"

"yes, exactly like that. you’re giving vintage pin-up, honey."

you shoot through giggles. he poses with soda-can curlers and mock seduction, biting his lip for one photo and flipping you off with the next. the dress stretches just right across his chest—your favorite shots are the ones where he forgets to suck in, where he’s just being, and the schlitties are in full glorious form.

he catches you staring at one point.

"stop ogling."

"can’t. you’ve got centerfold pecs."

"you’re gonna inflate my ego."

"i’m gonna submit your tits to Vogue."

he snickers, cheeks flushed, and flexes just a little. for the bit. for you.

click.

he’s never looked more gorgeous.

✧✧✧

he peels the dress off slow. the curlers come next. soda cans rattling into the sink, hair falling in gentle, uneven waves. and then the makeup wipes, tugging pink from his cheeks, shadow from his lids.

but the lip gloss stays.

you catch him in the bathroom mirror, sweatpants riding low on his hips, a loose tee now settled over his shoulders. he’s wiping his hands on a towel, mouth flushed and shiny.

you step behind him. wrap your arms around his waist.

“you left the gloss,” you murmur against his shoulder.

“kinda forgot.”

“mm. i didn’t.”

you press a kiss to the back of his neck. then his jaw. then the corner of his mouth.

“turn around.”

he does.

you lean in—slow and careful. lips brushing his, soft at first. then deeper. hungrier. tasting coconut and sweetness and him. your hands wander. over his chest, still warm from the lights. down to his waist. you squeeze gently, then lower. over the curve of his ass, fingers tightening as you pull him closer.

he gasps a little, into your mouth.

you smile against him. “just tell me when to stop.”

"I would never say no to your kisses, baby."

your teeth graze his bottom lip, just enough to make him inhale sharp. and then your hands are on the move—one gliding up his spine, the other squeezing the back of his thigh, encouraging him to step backward, toward the edge of the bed.

he stumbles a little, lets out a breathy laugh. “you gonna ravish me, sweetheart?”

you nip at his jaw. “thinking about it.”

his hands find your hips. “don’t think too long.”

you guide him down until the backs of his knees hit the mattress and he sits, arms falling behind him for support. the light catches the shine still clinging to his mouth. he looks up at you like he’s dazed. starstruck.

you straddle his lap, lips brushing his again.

“still taste like gloss,” you murmur.

“yeah?” he whispers. “gonna kiss it off me?”

you hum, dragging your mouth down his neck. “mmhm. gonna make it melt.”

✧✧✧

your fingers slip beneath his shirt, lifting slow. he lets you. breath hitching when your palms skim over his chest, your thumbs brushing the sensitive peaks beneath.

“fuck, sweetheart…” he rasps, head tipping back against the pillow. “you’re unreal.”

“and you’re responsive,” you murmur, grinning. “sooo cute.”

he cracks a breathless laugh, but it breaks into a whimper when you lean down and lick one pert peak—slow and teasing, teeth grazing just enough to make him twitch.

his fingers curl into the sheets. “jesus christ…”

“not quite,” you whisper, lips trailing lower, breath warm against his stomach. “but you can pray if you want.”

your nails skim along his hips. over his thighs. he’s half-hard already, but you don’t touch him there—not yet. you take your time, kissing every inch of exposed skin like you’re memorizing it. like he’s yours to study. to tease. to devour.

he lets out a broken sound when you mouth at his waistband, hips arching on instinct.

“need help getting these off?” you ask sweetly.

“god—please.”

you tug the fabric down slowly, deliberately, watching him twitch beneath the attention.

and when you finally meet his eyes again—lips slick, hair mussed, your body between his thighs like a promise—he looks wrecked already. so cute like this...

you smile. and say, low and velvety:

“good. now be a good boy and let me make you come pretty.”

[pigeonpeach]

Yandere Genshin

Prompt: youve caught their eye but… you’re already taken… that won’t be a problem…

Cw: yandere duh, mentions of murder and violence, manipulation, kidnapping, etc. fem reader

Characters: Jean, Diluc,Yelan, Neuvillete

Jean finds herself more and more infuriated with your commitment everyday. A simple hunter from Springvale is the one that catches your eye? How absurd! She knew she should’ve been more forward with her tatics. Oh this frustration and heartbreak has been tormenting her, impacting her work ethic as she tries to give you space. But its hard because you work for her. A cutesy little maid. You belong to her.. you’re everything she could want in a partner. So delicate, so plump, you’re the perfect bride. There’s no way she’s letting a man who can’t read s kid’s book without struggle surpass her!

So… she staged a little accident lets say.. she happened to cut the patrols in the area, making them closer to the city itself. That way there still was protection for the city… just not for the hunters. For awhile they’d been complaining sbout how the patrols spooked the boar. Even though those patrols were meant to cut down and discourage hilichurl camps. From a political perspective she just gave the hunters what they wanted. To up the anti more she had Kaeya tell him about a legendary boar deep into the wilderness. How the boars get bigger in hilichurl camps because they’ve started to fence them off and fatten them up, if he goes at night when they’re asleep, he could surely nail himself a big boar and pass it as a authentic catch…

The short of it was this. Your almost boyfriend snuck into one of the biggest hilichurl camps without the knights patroling nearby. And Kaeya knowing Jean’s work was negatively impacted by him.. may or may not have done something to alert the hilichurls to the the intruder. Quickly he was overwhelmed and beaten. With no knight in sight he was all alone. His struggle only made the hilichurls more violent. They threw him out, beaten to a pulp. When he saw Kaeya he was relieved thinking he was saved. But Kaeya had orders to finish the job of need be.

His death? A accident. Later hunters found him rotting near the camp, no foul play found. No one knew of his idea or who gave it to him, or who gave that person the idea. In your devastation you ended up right in her arms weeping.

“I am so sorry for your loss. I’ll make sure patrols return to normal and those camps are wiped out soon enough. I won’t let you experience such hardship ever again.” Crying to your boss felt so unprofessional but Jean was just so comforting to you. You had been putting on a brave face until now. You stood as she held you. “Lisa bought me this tea recently. It helps to steady my mind when I’m stressed, would you like me to give you some. I know it won’t remove your pain but it should help you somewhat. Unfortunately I can’t give you time off as two others are currently sick. But once they’re back I’ll give you some vacation okay?” She wiped your tears as you nodded.

“Th-that’s reasonable.. th-thank you.. oh god i must be such a burden. You’re already so stressed i didn’t mean to make it worse for you-“

“That’s not the case at all. I care about you. I want you to be safe and happy as every citizen in Mondstadt should be.” She kissed your forehead as she handed you the cup she prepared. “Here drink some tea. It was originally for me but I figure you need it more. I haven’t dranken from it.”

“Y-you’re sure that’s okay? I don’t mind waiting for another cup.” You asked. Oh how innocent you looked. Jean hated how she had to come to this, asking Lisa for a love spell to be put into the tea. But she couldn’t risk doing this to every suitor who got close to success. She needed to make sure you chose her otherwise she might go further next time.

“Its fine.” She said. You drank it with no further complaints.

Diluc was certain this was some sick prank. You, his beloved little maid, in love with nothing more than a simple merchant? Its not uncommon for the route from dawn winery to be used. But a certain merchant he purchased seeds from seemed to be getting far too close to you. Sure you two weren’t dating, he hadn’t even made the first step. But now he was absolutely was going to take drastic measures.

The first step: Distract you. You found yourself being assigned to chores more indoors an less outdoors. Diluc could sense how you would look out beyond hoping to see him again and he didn’t want that to continue. The second step was to lure said merchant back on a day you weren’t working. His arrival was horrible as the maids had all gone home leaving Diluc and Adelinde to recieve him, on a new moon, there was no moon to illuminate his path home so Diluc offered him to stay the night. He thought of this gratefully, originally the death Diluc planned was a simple killed in his sleep. But when he asked about you… oh it activated something in him. He even brought you a gift… how thoughtful… Diluc struggled to maintain his composure.

The merchant never did make it past the night. Despite his struggles. His body found beneath the bridge near Stone Gate. A investigation launched but ultimately blamed on bandits. With it his gift was smashed. You were devastated yes but your employer seemed to suddenly be more attentive than usual. He offered you meals and tea. Often requesting just to talk to you.

“Its getting late. I really should be going.” You set the tea cup back. “This was nice though. I wouldn’t mind doing this again but… oh.. is it raining?” You look out to see water coating the windows as what sounding like rain came from outside.

“Oh my it appears to be. At this hour you would be most vulnerable if you left now. You have no pets correct?”

“No.. oh dear…” you silently began to worry.

“You could always.. stay over. There is many a guest room and there’s spare pajamas for you. I’m certain it’ll be better than getting sick. Besides there’s bandits on the roads at these hours. You remember what happened to that merchant.” His voice luring you to s false sense of safety.

“Yes… I’ve been quite nervous going home now to be honest. Do you know if they ever found who did it?”

“Still nothing. Guards are posted more though. But it wpuld be easier. You do have a early shift here anyways in the morning so you wouldn’t need to go home right away. If that sounds alright.” He says, you jolted slightly as his hand gently grazed yours as you held your jacket. At that moment thunder clapped, startling you.

“I suppose that makes sene. I’ll take you up on that offer then..” you smiled shyly.

“I’ll lead you to your room then.”

He wasn’t going to let you leave.

(A/n: this is a alternative route to my other work Yelan vs Pantalone, dont consider this cannon to that piece but as its own spinoff)

Everyone has secrets. And Yelan’s is the fact that she stole a bride straight from Pantalone. It was mostly just to spite him, and also because she’s a sucker for a pretty face and couldn’t stand letting that happen. But oh they’re far more irresistible than she could’ve imagined. Now that they’re safely hidden in the jade chamber, working as a intern. She’s been visiting them when she comes to visit Ninguang, lucky her that Ninguang would allow her little damsel to stay in the jade chamber. But while her back was turned to her former life, she set her eyes on the people once known as parents to them. Her little Damsel cannot return to her former identity ever. And thus its better for her to believe that Pantalone went back on his word and killed them.

And that’s exactly what ended up happening. The Fatui’s search was halted and stopped because the Millieth wasn’t going to let the Fatui kill civilians just because they lost a bride. Even though they insisted they didn’t all signs pointed to that. She then forged documents to show to her beloved little damsel that this was the plan from the beginning, that Pantalone would have killed her parents upon acquiring her. Like the others so far, she used this opportunity to soothe them and bring them closer. At least this way they are alive and safe rather than in the hands of their families killer. Only… they are infact in the arms of their families killer. All seemed well until some stupid guard started poking around. He seemed more interested in courting them, believing they myst secretly be from s powerful family outside of Liyue and hiding. It was a rumor she purposely started to cover for their true identity. But now it backfired as this man saw a opportunity to climb up the social ladder. She isn’t quite sure what his exact plan was but her guess was he intended to make her fall for him and then marry him when she returned to her life, this guaranteeing a life of luxury. Unfortunately for him that won’t be the case. But Yelan can’t go killing her own. So she decided to simply use her influence to have him demoted to ground work instead. Convincing Ningguang that if allowed to stay he’ll uncover their scheme. The reason given to him was that apparently he was too loud or social than was acceptable in such environments. Afterwards he died to a hilichurl raid. Whoops.

“You.. you got my stuff?” You were surprised when she came to you with a crate.

“Yes, since legally you’re dead, your parents stuff was sold at auction at request of your family members. I grabbed what I remembered you valued myself.” She said with s smile as you beamed at the sight of your old things.

“It won’t raise suspicions will it?” Yu asked.

“I won’t let it. Don’t worry your pretty little head about the details.” She said patting you.

“I-i don’t know what I could do to repay you. You’ve done so much for me i-i truly have never had someone like you in my life.” You looked at her expecting a sort of humble brush off or something to actually be named.

“A date would be nice. Once everything cools down of course.” Her voice was like a purr, making you flustered.

“O-oh sure.. as long as it won’t cause you any trouble.”

“Perfect.” She said. You didn’t see it but she was considering drugging your tea that sat on the table behind her. A love potion, how typical but how effective. But seeing your blush she could tell you had infact fallen for her already. Which made the potion more of a backup if you ever lost feelings.

Neuvillete is anything but dishonest. But… seeing you cling to the arm of a guard, how happy you two looked.. it left him green with envy and red with wrath. To control himself he decided to simply change the guards routine to be out of your way. But you just went to meet them after work. His favorite little employee falling for the guard rather than him.. he felt deeply insulted.

Time for more drastic measures. He asks a favor from the clueless and happy Sedene (a simple melusine) to sneak into his house. To which she happens to find something. Just as planned he spends his time arranging scenarios to increase suspicion causing the other guards perform a check up right as he is planted with primordial sea water. He is quickly taken away to be questioned. Meanwhile you are distraught. You never thought him capable of such feats. But alas he was hardly the man you thought he was.

“I-I’m so sorry.. i truly didn’t know anything… i- Oh god ll this time..” you were hyperventilating as you were brought into questioning. “I-i.. oh god.. am i in danger? I could’ve ended up just like those missing girls..” Neuvillette’s hands reached out to your space as if to tell you to quiet down.

“I understand this situation is difficult. If necessary I’ll give you a moment to compose yourself. There isn’t any reason I have to suspect you but I still have to take precautions. You agreed to the random house search and no trace of seawater was found. I’m simply asking if he told you of anything suspicious or gave you any implications of his true nature.” He lowered his voice in a more gentle manner than he would in court. You sniffled as you wiped your tears.

“He.. he did keep inviting me to his place. I never went though. I didn’t think we were far along to do such things.. you know like… intimacy..” you nervously muttered. He still heard you, he was pleased to know you two didn’t get too serious.

“Were you two officially a couple?”

“No.. but we were close… i was going to ask him but then this all happened and… you know the story from there.”

“Hmm.. I see. It appears you infact were a target. Is there any reason you can think of?” He says. The sight of you so heartbroken and shaking is strangely attractive to him. So timid, so easily manipulated.

“No.. no not at all.. i don’t understand why?” You seemed more and more frightened. “S-should i not leave the house for a bit. This sounds very scary.. i don’t know if I can continue my routine as normal like this!” You whimpered as your hands seemed to get closer to your body. As if you retreating into she’ll to hide in.

“Fear not, I’ll have the secret patrol watch over. And each guard will undergo inspections from here onward. But i will be seeing you more. I want at least weekly updates to know of any strange activities or unexpected changes. Understand?” He said. You nodded. “With my life, I promise you, you will be safe. And I will let no harm come to you.. ever.”

[taylorsburner]

K.I.S.S.I.N.G

✧Summary✧ An unexpected treehouse date turns into an unexpected meeting with Conrad's younger brother

a/n: first Conrad fic over here! something cute and fluffy so I hope y'all like it🫶🏾

How exactly you ended up in Conrads treehouse, you couldn’t exactly pinpoint. All you knew is that in one of your nightly FaceTime chats over Thanksgiving break, Conrad had managed to somehow persuade you to fly back home with him have a little more time together at his house before you went home and didn’t see each other for a whole month. He even went as far as to come prepared with flight prices, times and anything else that would be needed to convince you. Including the justification of “My brother and dad aren’t going to be there for a few days. Do you want me to be all by myself at home?” with a little pout (a pout that he knew you couldn’t say no to) at the end to sweeten it up.

And to his surprise, and yours to be completely honest, you agreed to this little plan of his. You were going to miss him when you went home after all. Plus, you lived on the east coast too so it wouldn’t be that much out of your way, and even though you missed your family, it’s not like you were in a complete rush to get home. And you hadn’t bought your tickets at that point anyway so this in and of itself forced you to get that done.

Fast forward a couple of weeks and too many exams later and here you were, standing in the hideout Conrad claimed as his growing up.

“What am I in the girlfriends that have been up here roster?” You joke, looking through the bin of action figures in the cubbies against the wall.

“Number one actually.” Conrad honestly replies. He’d brought a girl home before, but never up to the treehouse.

“Really?” You ask turning back in his direction, not fully behind the idea of you being the first girl he chose to bring up here.

“Mhm.” He hums in response, a proud little smile threatening to break through in the process.

“Well I’m honored.” You proudly return, going back to looking at the relics of his childhood. On the outside, you were calm and collected, happily looking around. On the inside though, there were a million butterflies swarming your stomach and a pleasant warmth spreading through your body. Not that it really mattered, but hearing that you were the first girl he’d brought up here made you feel a little special. He showed you in other ways how much you meant to him of course, but being welcomed into a special space of his was just a nice cherry on top.

“This is too cute!” You gush, taking in all of the very Conrad touches around the space.

“My dad built it for my brother and I, but once Jere was no longer interested I made it my own hideout.” Conrad further explains, deciding to take a seat on the floor against the wall, focusing all of his attention on you.

“Well all of this is very you, very Conrad.” You hum with a little smile, deciding to join him on the floor. When you do this, you’re immediately being pulled over to straddle his lap, to which you had no complaints in the slightest.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He quips, quirking his brow up in your direction.

“It’s so neat and tidy in here. Plus, you have those little single player games you love so much for some reason. And there’s enough books for you to stay up here for god knows how long.” You reply, a small smirk forming on your lips.

“You may have a point.” Conrad concedes with a smile, his mind immediately flashing to the many times his mom had to practically bribe him to come down for dinner, even coming up there herself at times.

“I know.” You reply, pridefully beaming down at him.You could feel his arms wrapping your waist, pulling you closer to his chest, prompting you to rest your arms on his shoulders, immediately playing with the soft curls at the nape of his neck out of instinct. A wave of comfortable silence falls over the room, both you and Conrad basking in the simple state of being together. And being closer than before. Even though it was a small thing to see his childhood home and treehouse, the both of you whether it was verbalized it or not, no doubt felt closer. Conrad chose and allowed himself to open up and bringing you deeper into his life, something he did very sparingly.

“Thanks for bringing me along babe.” You whisper, ducking down slightly to plant a small kiss on his cheek.

“There’s no one else I’d rather be here with.” He whispers back, with the utmost sincerity in his tone and eyes. Conrad then proceeds to tenderly bring his lips to yours.The two of you were in absolutely no rush, just wanting to soak up any and every moment you had together. You and Conrad were in a bubble. Better yet, an island all to yourselves. The privacy you two had to seek out for the past three or so months was all yours now, at least for the next three days until you yourself went home for the holidays. And because of that, you and Conrad were going to make the most out of this time together.

All either of you could focus on in this moment was your mouths moving against each other’s. Just about anything could’ve been happening around you both and neither of you would bat an eye in that direction. There was this sort of force that held you both tightly wound in each other without being overpowering. Your fingers were nestled within his hair as his glide back and forth across the expanse of your back.

The kisses from Conrad remained soft and tender, however you could feel a bit more power behind each one. A power to which you gladly reciprocated. He manages to slip his tongue past your parted lips, only intensifying the already heavy atmosphere. Not only had he taken claim of your mouth, you could also feel him quickly growing beneath you (and since you were straddling him, your center was pressed right against him) and you could feel his hands sneak underneath your hoodie and t-shirt to take claim of your warm skin beneath.

When it came to time or how cold it was outside, neither of you were paying attention. At this point, the both of you were turned on and wrapped up in each other to even care for how long you’d been up there. That is, until the youngest of the Fisher boys stated yelling at the bottom of the tree for him.

Originally, Conrad would be the only one at home for a few days before the youngest Fisher would arrive, followed by their father. This meant he’d have you all to himself for a few days, the much-needed calm before the storm if you will. And in the long run of his " plan ", he planned on introducing you to his father and brother when you came with him to Cousins over the summer. That is, if you said yes when he asked you (he had a good feeling that you’d say yes though). But seeing as Jeremiah had arrived earlier, that plan was now scrapped.

“Conrad, I know you’re up there.” Jeremiah says pointedly up towards the quiet treehouse.

At this, your boyfriend gives you the smallest shhh between his light pants before bringing his lips back to yours, hoping that the silence would send his brother away.

“Maybe we should go down there. You don’t want to be rude, that is your brother after all.” You quietly reason, catching your breath in the process.

“I just want you all to myself. Plus he wasn’t even supposed to arrive this early!” He pouts, pulling you closer if that was even possible. When he does this though, he slightly moves you against the very noticeable bump in his pants, causing the both of you to let out a sigh of momentary relief. Before you could even respond, Jeremiah is shouting again.

“I will come up there!” Jeremiah “threatens” from below. He would’ve stampeded up there already if he hadn’t seen two suitcases in the house when he went in. The last thing, like the very last thing, he ever wanted was to see was his brother in a compromising position. So he treaded on the side of caution, for his own sake.

When he says this, you give Conrad one look and at last, he’s throwing in the towel.

“No need! We’re coming down.” Conrad grumbles loud enough for Jeremiah to hear, giving your thigh a slight squeeze, signaling for you to stand up first. Moving your hands into his you move to stand up, your legs a little shaky from your “activities” and from being on the floor for that long. Conrad then follows suit, standing tall in front of you. As if there’s a magnet at your waist, his arms snake back around you to hold you again, to which you are more than welcoming. But before Conrad can plant a departing kiss on you, the nuisance below (at least that’s what Conrad would be referring to him as from now on) starts up again.

“Conrad and-“ Jeremiah begins, pausing to think about who and the hell his brother could possibly be up there with. “whoever he’s up there with, kissing in a tree, K.I.S.S.I.N.G.” Jeremiah proudly sings from the ground. ‘How childish could he possibly be’, Conrad thought. While Conrad let out an annoyance filled groan, you had no choice but to let out a giggle at the indirect back and forth between the two brothers. Eventually, the two of you make it back down the tree (Conrad reminding you to be careful just about every five seconds) to find Jeremiah waiting on the ground with a look of complete shock and a touch of confusion.

“Jere, this is my girlfriend Y/n. Y/n, this is my pest of a brother Jeremiah.” Conrad quickly introducing the two of you. You send the blonde a quick wave and smile, completely caught off guard at even meeting him right then and there, let alone right after you just finished making out with his older brother in his childhood tree house.

“Now how in the hell were you able to get a girlfriend? And a pretty one at that?” The blonde asks, a look of patronizing yet slightly genuine confusion on his face.

“Well when you’re not an annoying ass it’s a bit easier.” Conrad condescendingly replies, tightening the arm he had wrapped around your waist. To diffuse some of the tension radiating off of him, you peck his cheek and rest your head on his shoulder.

“Okay fine, don’t tell me.” He replies, rolling his eyes in the process. “Anyways, it’s nice to meet you Y/n. And I’m sorry you got stuck with my brother, hopefully he isn’t boring you too much.” He pokes with a wide smirk.

“It was nice meeting you too. And don’t worry, I’ll make sure to let him know if he ever does.” You reply with a smile, even though you knew that it was practically impossible for Conrad to bore you in the slightest. Jeremiah lets out a small chuckle at your comment before giving his brother a strong pat on the back and making his way back towards the house.

“I swear he didn’t tell me he was coming early. It’s literally impossible for him to be early to anything.” Conrad quickly explains once Jeremiah is out or earshot, worried that you may have felt uneasy about meeting his brother this early on in your relationship.

“I mean, I was going to meet him eventually. Right?” You softly reply.

“Of course.” He quickly replies back.

“Then we’re just a tad bit ahead of schedule.” You ration, pulling away slightly to face him. His cheeks were pink from the cold and he had the biggest and sappiest smile spread across his face. “I would kiss you right now but I can’t feel my lips.” You joke snapping him out of the small daze he was in.

“Well let’s get you inside. Don’t need my girlfriend turning into a popsicle.” He chuckles before picking you up bridal style and running you two back to the house, sending you into a fit of laughter.

request new stuff here♡

[the-necromancer-wife]

John Doe: Nothing scarier than the detriment of mental health.

TW: Adressing mental health issues and awareness, Spoilers for John Doe game, very long rant.

As the title suggests, I'm sharing my take on this horromance visual novel called John Doe. This was supposed to be only one of those super deep analysis i usually make, looking for symbolisms and deep diving into this game but it quickly turned out to be something slightly different. I will try to adress it with all the respect it deserves.

Origin of the name:

I started thinking about this game for a while now. I was curious on what the name "John Doe" meant in this context. As the guy doesn't really seems able to pronounce his own name in a way we can comprehend or it's kinda infohazardous to hear. So he just asks you to call him "John Doe".

But where did we heard that before?

Funnily enough, John Doe is what we known as a placeholder name used (i think only) in the UK. The feminine equivalent being "Jane Doe", it is a name commonly used for referring to people which name is unknown or intentionally concealed. Of course there are many variations of this placeholder name and in the context of law enforcement in the United States, such names are often used to refer to a corpse whose identity is unknown or cannot be confirmed.

A "John Doe" is what in some countries is called an everyman. A John Doe could be me, you, or whatever person we can think about, it comprehends any age or gender. It's the idea of "everyone can be anything". Of course, the everyman archetype is often used in media to portray a character we can all relate to.

Although the usage became obsolete in the UK in 1852, in the UK usage of "John Doe" survives mainly in the form of John Doe injunction or John Doe order.

8.02 If an unknown person has possession of the confidential personal information and is threatening to disclose it, a 'John Doe' injunction may be sought against that person. The first time this form of injunction was used since 1852 in the United Kingdom was in 2005 when lawyers acting for JK Rowling and her publishers obtained an interim order against an unidentified person who had offered to sell chapters of a stolen copy of an unpublished Harry Potter novel to the media.

("The Law of Professional-Client Confidentiality: Regulating the Disclosure of Confidential Personal Information, Update")

There's something we can keep from all this and is the fact that John Doe didn't chose a random nickname, he chose THE nickname, the name that would place him as any of us since, at some point, we could all end up being "John Doe"s and "Jane Doe"s or unfortunately, "Baby Doe"s (yes, this one is for children). And i think this right here delivers a strong message. But more on that later.

We begin this game with really weird imagery. The "backgrounds" are not what we would expect on a visual novel. It kinda reminds me of this viral "name a thing in this picture" image.

Like...you know these are stuff you know and see everyday, yet you cannot name any of them. It's like your perception is altered when you look at it and suddenly everything looks...familiar...but you cannot really identify anything. You feel...disconnected. You know your brain should be doing its job and placing everything together to help you recognize the full picture...but it just fails in doing so. So you just stay there, scratching your head and wondering what happened.

And this exact vibe is transmited by the backgrounds in this game.

And here in the second image we get a glimpse on the MC: Wakes up late, hasn't showered in three days and overall has this distorted vision of the world around her. And she is, oh so forgetful, according to John Doe. As she "forgets" she invited him to her home in the first place.

There is clearly something wrong with the MC, or at least something is not working for her. And i don't mean it in a quirky or funny way, i mean it as in "mental health related issues". The game doesn't tell us why, but I'm pretty sure MC suffers from depression.

Everything listed earlier are things that happen when your brain functions with depression: Cognitive detriment (You aren't quite aware of your surroundings as you know what you see but your brain cannot really "decode" what are those things), waking up late (as this could indicate an irregular sleep schedule, another very common thing for depressed people), poor personal hygiene (i think this one is the most known) and memory related issues.

But every single one of those symptoms by itself is really not an indicator of a depressed state. In fact, as it also happens with anxiety, you need to make a distinction between a depressed state due to a specific event and long term depression, the later caused by stacks of unsolved issues, non-adressed trauma and lack of skills to ensure mental wellbeing. I believe the MC suffers from this long term depression, as she feels life passes by as an endless loop.

Same day, same routine. And this right here is the premise of John Doe (the game). The day repeating itself over and over. The "wake up, go to work, I'm not hungry, go home, sleep (or don't)". She doesn't laments her situation directly, but this also happens a lot with depression. You don't "feel it", it "makes you feel".

And there is someone else in this loop, stuck with the MC. That is, John Doe himself. I think John Doe encapsules pretty well the concept of "what if".

What if i behaved in certain way, what if i did this, what if i didn't do that. He never loses interest in you. As i heard someone mention somewhere, his "Lost interest" ending is just him leaving you be just beacuse he knows things can be different in the next playthrough. Doe begings thinking that there's a combination of choices that will lead you two to be toghether in a way that pleases him.

As it happens with depression, none of them are focusing on "breaking the loop". And as a fun fact, usually a person doesn't see an exit to their problems not because there is no solution, but because they keep trying the same old solutions over and over.

John Doe does his best. At some point he passes the question "what if everything was normal?"

And this is what we begin to see:

"What if everything was normal"

"What if everything was fine"

This time, the MC has a decent schedule, she seems to be able to see her enviroment clearly and the way she perceives John Doe is not altered. I think this also reflects something among the lines of "When you feel like shit and the world doesn't makes sense, it's hard to focus on any kind of relationship" Often the social isolation becomes something usual in the context of depression and interacting with the people around starts to feel...scary, very much like John Doe and the faces he makes and the way he approaches us. But MC is not depressed this time and he is a "nice guy" this time. He should be accepted, he should be "loved".

I'm getting out of the analysis for a moment to involve a personal experience, to share a piece of myself.

Some years ago i was really in love with this person. I lacked the confidence and hated myself too much and that made me think this person wouldn't remotely like me back if i didn't craft myself carefully like his ideal type. What i believed he would like based on what i knew about him. So i changed. And it felt good at first, because the love i felt for this person was so big that everything else was literally a small price to pay to be by his side. We became a couple and lasted for a long time, but one day i woke up and i didn't recognize myself as a person. I hated myself for being myself.

The truth is, John Doe's story could be anyone's story at some point. That's why his name is literally a placeholder name. The MC's story could also be anyone's story, our story, since we are the MCs after all.

The idea that stuck with me was "Anyone could be this person".

We don't know who lives in a metaphorical endless loop, who lives in a constant depressed state, who is struggling with self-esteem. We don't know. And seeing it from this perspective, it seems like everything that happens is out of our control. That when we're depressed we have nothing more than this. There's nothing else we can do.

But that's when we're wrong.

There's a single thing in the game that seemingly has no effect but personally i like to interpret it as life giving us the ability to choose. Whe can choose to get a bath or not, meaning the personal hygiene is something we do have under control. It is not everything, but it's a start. From all the things listed before that made me think MC was depressed, "getting a bath or not" was the only instance in which we had a choice. If you don't choose it today (as sometimes depressed people don't have the strength to care about that), there is always a tomorrow. But if you do choose it today, that's something meaningful by its own.

And also, we have the fact that our words and actions matter a lot to others.

We matter a lot to others. We make a difference, at least for one person. And anyone could be this person.

...

Soooo if you notice this analysis is a bit more unorganized than others, that's because i didn't have a structure for it. It is more of a personal rant than an essay. But i like to keep it that way. Remember this is just my personal interpretation of the game.

Oh and also I'm planning to make a tag list in case there's people that want to be notified when i post this kind of stuff? Just let me know if there's anyone interested.

[imagines--galore]

||The Thread of Fate|| Part Fourteen

Summary: Soulmate AU. They say the Thread of Fate connects you to your one true love. It may tangle. It may stretch. But it will never break. Wrapped around your little finger it tightens when it feels your soulmate is close and loosens when they are far. And becomes visible with the colors of your soulmate’s Nation when you finally fall in love with them.

Pairing: Zuko x OroraOC (ATLA)

Rating || Genres || Warnings: T+ Romance. Adventure.

Previous Chapters - Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven, Part Eight, Part Nine, Part Ten, Part Eleven, Part Twelve, Part Thirteen

A/N: I LOVED writing this chapter! That's it. That's all I'm gonna say! Enjoy my lovelies!!!! Eeeeeepppppppppp!!!!!!

"I was saving that peach for this morning."

"Then you should've told me last night. How was I supposed to know it was yours?"

"Because I didn't eat mine last night. You were right there when I put it away."

"For all I know, you didn't want to eat it."

"Who in their right minds wouldn't eat a peach?! Its the best fruit there is!"

"Which is why I ate it!"

And so the argument continued, words flying back and forth across the breakfast table. Iroh sipped his tea contentedly, enjoying the warmth of the beverage. The little argument didn't bother him, really it would bother him if Orora and Zuko weren't arguing first thing in the morning.

Thinking that perhaps he should step in, lest Orora freeze Zuko for the rest of the day, and she would do that, Iroh cleared his throat, catching both their attention. "I believe you owe Orora a peach Zuko." He stated calmly, prompting his pupil to shoot a smug smirk in the scowling Prince's direction.

"She can get one herself." He grumbled, standing up. Orora pursed her lips in annoyance, but chose to remain quiet. She wouldn't be letting it go that easily, but for now, they were already getting late for work.

Best to pick up on it later.

Iroh couldn't help but chuckle at the look of intense concentration on Orora's face. He knew exactly what she was planning, he just hoped her revenge, should she choose to seek it out, which she would, wouldn't make Zuko too annoyed.

Then again, it was rather nice to see Zuko display emotions other then anger, anguish and hopelessness. For too long he had watched his nephew despair over the loss of his home and his honor. But ever since Orora came into their lives, Iroh had seen significant change. One that made him realize that perhaps the boy Zuko had been before he was banished, was still somewhere inside him.

And as they stepped into the teashop to begin work for the day, he caught his nephew shoving a peach into Orora's hand before stalking off to look for his apron. His young pupil stood still for a few moments, eyes darting from the fruit to the door where Zuko had disappeared.

Finally, she rolled her eyes, a gentle smile playing about her lips. Slipping the peach into her pocket, she began her tasks for the day.

Iroh shook his head, smiling to himself. It was obvious how the both of them cared for one another, and yet neither were willing to take the next step. Perhaps because of their views, views that had been thrust upon them by the world.

A Fire Nation Royal, and a Water Tribe Noblewoman.

A love that was never meant to be.

Huffing to himself, Iroh began to go over the many many teas he had stored on the shelf behind the counter.

He had allowed them both the dignity of working everything out themselves, but if they were going to be too stubborn about their nonsensical views, he would have to step in.

They were far better together then they were apart, he had seen and experienced it firsthand.

Perhaps an opportunity would arrive soon, that would help push both teenagers together.

                                          ————————–

She stared at the peach in her hand.

It was rather strange how something as insignificant as a piece of fruit held so much meaning. And all because Zuko had given it to her.

Granted he had done so because his Uncle had told him he owed her one, but, lately, Orora had begun to realize that even though his Uncle was the one to advise Zuko on something, the act being carried out was something he did out of choice, and not necessity.

She was on her break at the moment, sitting in the back of the tea shop, looking over at the peach as if she were seeing it for the first time. Taking a bite of the fruit, she smiled at the sweet taste that burst across her tongue the moment she split the skin with her teeth.

Staring listlessly at the wall across from her, her mind wandered to the dinner they had a few nights ago. She still couldn't believe her and Zuko had managed to pull it off without any major mishap. They had actually been smiling at one another by the end of the night. And there was also the fact that she heard him laugh for the first time since they had met.

She had come to that realization late at night. It was shocking enough that she had laid there in silent surprise for a good few minutes before it sank in completely. It was sad how Zuko didn't allow himself to be happy. He didn't smile often either.

If eating spicy food and reacting to it got a sincere laugh out of him then she would probably do it again.

Orora shook her head as she took the last bite of her peach. The past couple of days, she had been seriously contemplating on Zuko being her soulmate. Here in Ba Sing Se, so far away from the horrors of war and the danger that had plagued them, she had to admit it was easy to dismiss all that was going on beyond the Walls and build a new life.

Maybe

.

.

.

.

.

.

Maybe having Zuko as a soulmate wasn't such a bad thing.

He did look out for her, she mused as she stood to wash her hands in the sink. Whenever she would go out in the city he would follow her. At first it had been a little annoying, but seeing him actually be sincere about the task had softened her heart. And though she knew she could take care of herself, should the need arise, it was comforting to know that there was someone watching out for her.

And then there were the little gestures he had been acting on every now and then. She usually slept late, wanting to get a bit of practice in before heading to bed. Besides, as a waterbender, her abilities were much stronger at night under the light of the moon. Sometimes she would practice for so long that she would barely have the strength to stumble to her bed roll, let alone pull the blanket over her. She would wake the next morning with the blanket covering her, and she knew it had been him.

How?

Because her string had tugged a little during the night and despite being asleep she had felt it.

He would always wait by the door before they left to ensure she walked between him and Iroh during their short trek to the tea shop. And when it was time to go home, he would be at the door once more, walking a pace behind her.

Zuko probably thought she didn't notice. But she did.

She noticed everything about him.

How, despite the cold exterior he tried to maintain, he actually had a kind heart. One that had hid from the rest of the world because he had had his face burned for showing that empathy for someone else.

Looking down at her hands, Orora suddenly realized she had actually washed the peach pit. Smiling softly, the girl couldn't help but shake her head as she recalled how Zuko had avoided her eye when handing her the fruit.

And for some unknown reason, one that certainly had nothing to do with sentimentality, she slipped the little peach pit in the pocket of her trouser.

The moment she did, her string flickered with color, and remained a deep red for a good few minutes.

All the while she stared at it, a warmth spreading through her entire body.

And if she blushed when Zuko walked in a few moments later, she simply walked past him, head held high, and eyes aglow with the realization that, perhaps, her feelings for him were beginning to grow stronger.

                                          ————————–

Warm amber gold eyes followed Orora as she walked back to the front of the shop. Once her break ended, his began, and Zuko was dying to eat something and get off his feet.

Honestly, serving tea all day, taking orders, washing dishes and stocking new product was as taxing as firebending. As someone who hadn't had a job his whole life, it was an eye-opener for him that people did all this and much more, just so they had a hot meal and a roof over their head.

Moving to where their daily lunch was, he picked up his bowl and settled onto his chair as he began to eat.

His eyes flickered to the two bowls that were still full of food, and he frowned. Orora hadn't eaten. She would likely be starving when they got back home. He needed a reminder to tell her off when it came to skipping her lunch. She did that often, he noticed, not eat because she didn't feel like it. If she kept doing that, she was surely going to get sick.

Letting out an annoyed huff he took a big bite of the stew he was eating, chewing almost aggressively. It was a little annoying at times, how much the thought of Orora occupied his mind. It was beginning to get rather tedious, if he were honest with himself, trying not to think of her.

But the surprising revelation about it? Was that he didn't actually mind thinking about her.

It was strange. For so long all that had occupied his mind was capturing the Avatar and getting back home. But now that was something that seemed as impossible to achieve as seeing a live dragon.

But what did seem possible? Was living a quiet life as a refugee. During the 100 year war, no Fire Nation army had been able to penetrate the walls of Ba Sing Se. So there was no chance of the city coming under the Fire Nation's control.

Maybe Uncle was right?

Maybe it was time to stop looking to the past and look towards the future.

A future with his Uncle at his side, someone who genuinely loved him.

And Orora. A future with Orora.

Would it ever happen, he wandered, playing with the last few pieces of meat that were at the very bottom of his bowl. He saw her as a friend now, and he was content with just that.

After all, he sighed in slight defeat, leaving the rest of his stew as he moved to the front of the tea shop again.

Soulmate or no, who could ever accept him?

A scarred, banished prince, with nothing but his title to remind him of who he had been.

Nothing more.

                                          ————————–

The new boxes of teas had arrived, and Iroh had eagerly opened them up to begin stacking them in the appropriate shelves. Climbing up the ladder, he lowered his hand down where Orora began to hand him the boxes one by one.

It had been a relatively slow day, so most of the chores they would normally do after the shop had closed were nearly completed now. Orora was honestly looking forward to going home early. It had been a busy few days, and she would also be going to Lake Laogai to practice a little of her bending soon.

A little lost in her daydream of practicing in a large body of water, she very nearly missed Zuko approaching the both of them.

"Uncle, we have a problem." His voice sounded urgent, prompting Orora to turn and look at him, while Iroh descended from the ladder.

"One of the customers is on to us." Zuko stated through slightly gritted teeth. Orora looked around the tea shop, and not finding anyone that would look remotely threatening rolled her eyes at Zuko. "You're being paranoid Zuko." She stated in a low voice, before moving to arrange a few more tea boxes in one of the lower shelves. Zuko threw a scowl in her direction before continuing to address his Uncle.

"Don't look now but there is a girl over there at the corner table. She knows we're Fire Nation." Iroh turned around to look at the girl, but was quickly pulled back by Zuko, who growled at him. "Didn't I say don't look?!"

"She's harmless Zuko. She's been coming in for days now. Always orders the Jasmine." Orora stated, not at all bothered by his accusations. Their main concern had been Jet, and he was already dealt with, so no reason to go around stirring up trouble. And she was aware how much Zuko loved to get in trouble for no reason.

Iroh had managed to see the girl, and having seen the girl before as well, he had also noticed how she would often watch his nephew as he worked around the shop. He tried his best not to let his glee show as he spoke. "You're right, Zuko. I've seen that girl in here quite a lot." He nudged his nephew in the stomach playfully. "Seems to me she has quite a little crush on you."

The reactions he had been hoping for were instant. Zuko blinked in astonishment at his suggestion, his brain unable to comprehend that anyone, let alone a pretty girl, would have a crush on him. Orora had dropped the box she had been setting, and turned to stare wide-eyed at her teacher and soulmate.

"What?" They both all but squawked out, prompting Iroh to let out a chuckle.

As if realizing what had just come out of her mouth, Orora quickly turned her attention back to her task, though not before she caught the look of surprise Zuko threw her way. Obviously he had seen her reaction. Though nothing could be said on the matter at present, since the girl came up to the counter. "Thank you for the tea." She said, a smile on her lips as she placed a few coins on the table, which Zuko picked up to put in the money box. "What's your name?" She continued, prompting Iroh to smile slightly.

Turning back around, Zuko spoke. "My name's Lee. We just moved here." He added, gesturing to both his Uncle and Orora, the latter of whom was still rather busy with stacking boxes, however she was more then aware of the conversation happening behind her.

"Hi Lee, my name's Jin." The girl introduced herself. "And......well, I was wondering if you would like to go out sometime." Zuko was stunned, for lack of a better word, staring at Jin as if she had suddenly grown an extra limb or something. Iroh, not wanting such a golden opportunity to go to waste quickly stepped forward.

"He'd love to!" He exclaimed loudly, behind him Orora glanced at Zuko out of the corner of her eyes, trying to see how he had reacted to being asked out by such a pretty girl.

"Great." Jin exclaimed, sounding delighted. "I'll meet you in front of the shop at sundown." And just as suddenly she had appeared, Jin walked away. A large smile on his lips Iroh threw an arm around Zuko's shoulders, who finally broke out of his bewildered state to glare at his Uncle.

                                          ————————–

"I'm not going."

The deceleration came as no surprise. As soon as Jin had walked out of earshot, Zuko had been quick to turn to his Uncle and state what was on his mind. Orora, not wanting to hear the rest of the conversation, moved to the back of the shop to finish doing whatever cups were left.

She knew Iroh wouldn't let Zuko back out, not when it meant making someone sad, so it was better to not be a part of that conversation.

Besides, she needed a little alone time to figure out why she had reacted the way she did just then a few minutes ago. Bending some clean water she splashed her face with it, allowing the coolness of it to calm and relax her a little. Maybe she should spend the evening on the roof. There was bound to be a moon out, and she just needed to bask in it's silvery glow. That always helped ground her.

But first, something to eat.

She moved to where her bowl of broth was still waiting for her. It was cold now, but she barely noticed as she caught snippets of conversations from beyond the open door.

Finally, Zuko appeared. He began pacing, grumbling under his breath, and she knew Iroh had won. "You know, you should be glad a pretty girl asked you on a date. Most guys aren't so lucky." She stated between a bite of her stew. He glared at her, to which she simply shrugged. "I'm just saying, why not go out and just have fun?" Setting her bowl down, she watched as his gaze flickered from his finger to her own.

The very finger the string that attached them to one another was tied.

She sighed, inhaling through her nose and exhaling through her mouth as she spoke. Zuko, just because we've decided to be friends doesn't mean we've promised anything more." Her voice was soft, and sounded a little detached, even to her own ears. And despite her heart telling her not to, her mind was pushing her to do the right thing.

"Go out with her. And like your Uncle said, be a normal boy for once. You deserve that more then anything. To be treated normally and not as the enemy." A smile pulled at her lips, though it didn't reach her eyes. At least not completely.

Something that Zuko noticed, even as he finally relented. "Alright, I'll go."

                                          ————————–

Zuko was beginning to feel a little exhausted.

Mentally.

Jin spoke. A lot. And while that wasn't a bad thing, he had never been good for long conversations. He preferred silence and as minimal conversation as possible. Orora had understood that early on, and though she teased him about being broody, she would keep quiet when she knew he needed the silence to just......be.

Her conversations did help him forget his rather morbid thoughts, and whenever he would return to silently contemplating, he found his mind to be much lighter then it had been before.

And all because he spoke to her.

"So tell me, I know Mushi is your Uncle, but what about that girl that works with you?" Jin's question had him blinking out of his stupor and looking at her across the dinner table. "Oh, she's a student of my Uncle's. He helps her with her waterbending, even though he isn't a bender himself." He was quick to add with a shrug.

He watched, confused, as Jin let out a little sigh of relief, her shoulders drooping slightly. "Oh well thats good! From the way she looks at you sometimes, I thought you two were soulmates or something."

Zuko blinked.

"What?" That word was supposed to come out as a demand, but instead it came out hoarse and unbelieving. The girl shrugged. "Well, yeah. I mean I've seen her look at you sometimes, and thats the exact way my mom looks at my dad when he isn't looking." She grinned. "They're soulmates." She added as a away of explanation.

The young prince simply gave a small nod, before returning to his silent contemplation, only half listening to Jin as she continued to talk.

                                          ————————–

The only good part of her evening had been when she had seen Zuko walk out after Iroh had helped him with his unruly hair. She had to physically hold herself back from laughing out loud, and had only let loose after he had gone, not wanting to hurt his feelings.

"I see you are amused by my nephew's misery Orora." Iroh said, though there was no anger in his words, only slight reprimand. Orora pursed her lips to keep from smiling. "I'm sorry Master. Though I do hope Zuko has a good time. He deserves it." She added.

Iroh reached out to pat her arm in an affectionate manner. "I know you are a little hurt, but you possess a kind heart for saying so Orora." Seeing the slightly crestfallen look on her face, as she allowed her true feelings for the date to show, Iroh continued.

"And who knows, perhaps this date will act as the wake up call my nephew needs to not take you for granted."

She shook her head. "He doesn't do that Master." Moving to the window, she placed one leg over the ledge. "Although, it would be nice if he were to notice me as a girl rather then just his friend." So saying, she pulled herself up on the roof to loose herself to her thoughts.

                                          ————————–

Well this was a little awkward.

Zuko glanced at Jin, looking more then a little crestfallen about discovering that he lamps weren't lit. And looking at her sad expression, he was reminded of Orora, and how sad she would look whenever he spoke to her about his past. Though since that first night, when he had revealed everything, he did try to cheer her up. Mostly he just said something to annoy her, to distract her from thinking about his past.

Lately though, he had been working on actually making her smile.

"Close your eyes. And don't look." He said. Jin gave him a confused look, but did as he asked. She even covered her eyes to assure him that she wasn't looking.

Zuko walked forward, holding his hands together. He closed his eyes briefly, inhaling as he allowed his inner fire to burn a little brighter. It had been so long since he had firebended. Using his pointer and middle fingers on each hand, he shot small bursts of flame in the directions of the candles to light them. It didn't take long for him to be done, and once finished, he stood straight and looked at Jin, who still stood with her palms over her eyes.

"Okay, now you can look."

Removing her hands, Jin gasped. "Oh, wow." Zuko had to admit, the lights did look rather beautiful as they reflected off the surface of the water of the fountain. Jin looked at Zuko, amazed. She walked up to him, looking at the candles. "What happened? How did they light? What did you do?" There was no accusation in her tone. Only surprise and happiness as her gaze flitted between him and the lights around them. Zuko didn't reply and Jin finally fell silent as well, looking around at the pretty view in awe.

And as he watched the light reflect in the fountain, he couldn't help but think of Orora and how she would probably create ice crystals to hang in midair. He was sure the sight would only become even more wondrous then it already was.

He was brought out of his thoughts when he felt Jin take his hand. Feeling a little lost and confused, since he had no other girl other then Orora actually take his hand voluntarily, he turned so he could look at Jin.

Who was beginning to lean in a little.

Prompting him to quickly hold up a piece of paper between them. His heart thumped wildly in his chest. Surely she hadn't been about to..........

"I've brought you something." Jin looked at him surprised. "It's a coupon for a free cup of tea." He continued, prompting the girl to smile. "Lee, this is so sweet." She said taking the coupon and smiling at him. Zuko shrugged as he took a couple of steps back. "Don't thank me – it was my Uncle's idea. He thinks you're our most valuable customer."

Jin smiled. "Your uncle is a good teacher." The young prince's face softened slightly at the words. "Yeah, Orora can testify to that." He said, his eyes falling to the fountain once more where the water rippled slightly in the breeze. He felt Jin walk up next to him. A hand pressed to the side of his face. "I have something for you too. Now it's your turn to close your eyes."

With no hesitation he did. He felt Jin move even closer to him before a pair of soft lips pressed against his own. The contact was brief and she pulled back almost instantly. And though he did lean back in a little, almost instinctively he pulled back.

He opened his eyes, standing there and looking at her. Imagining someone else.

Someone with darker skin.

Ice blue eyes.

A patch of white in her hair.

And a smile that had begun to effect him more then he ever thought possible.

He turned his back on Jin, beginning to walk away.

"What's wrong?" Jin called out behind him. He could almost hear the disappointment in her voice. "It's complicated." He said, trying to shake away the image of Orora looking at him just as Jin had a few moments ago. "I have to go." He said starting to walk once more.

"Its that girl isn't it?"

He turned around startled, his eyes wide in disbelief as he stared at Jin. She had an almost sad smile on her lips as she looked at him. "You know you look at her the same way she looks at you sometimes. I've seen it." She said sighing in an almost melancholy way. "I would kill to have someone look at me like that. Like I'm their reason for getting up in the morning." She clarified, oversharing as usual, given how that was how she talked. Jin shrugged.

"Maybe it doesn't have to be as complicated like you say it is."

Zuko looked at her one last time, before sprinting back home.

                                          ————————–

Iroh looked out from the window down in the street, hoping to catch sight of Zuko as he returned. Of course he did not anticipate his nephew taking the back entrance of the apartment building. The door opened and Zuko walked in, silent and contemplative.

Trimming a bonsai tree to appear nonchalant, Iroh barely glanced at his nephew. "How was your night, Prince Zuko?" He asked. Zuko responded by walking to the bedroom and slamming the door shut behind him. Iroh looked after him for a second with a confused expression before he sighed and moved back to his task.

Though he immediately turned back around when he heard the door crack open and Zuko's voice to filter out.

"It was nice." He said, his voice soft and sounded as if he didn't believe the words himself. The door closed again, and Iroh smiled before resuming his task.

                                          ————————–

He found her lying on the roof. Her arms behind her head, her gaze trained towards the night sky, the light of the moon bright yet soothing. She didn't move her head, though she knew he was there as he mirrored her position.

A peaceful silence enveloped them both.

Where Zuko's mind had been a cacophony of words and voices echoing all around, barely finishing a thought, it was now silent. And where Orora had been overthinking even the most minutest of details, she found perfection in that moment as Zuko lay beside her.

"So, how was your date?" She finally spoke, her voice breaking the stillness of the moment, though not taking away from the tranquility of it.

"It was nice." Zuko repeated the same words he had told his Uncle, eyes tracing the many stars that littered the night sky. "I told her we traveled with a circus at one point. She seemed to believe it."

A soft laugh echoed across the rooftop. A sound that prompted Zuko to smile. He liked hearing her laugh.

"She also asked me to juggle, and I broke a couple of pots."

Another laugh. He was beginning to associate that sound with true happiness.

"Then she took me to see this fountain. You would've liked it. The lights made it look like the water was dancing." He never would've thought he would say words like that. Words of beauty and appreciation he always kept to himself. But here, with her, he had no problem saying them out loud.

Another silence.

This time it was broken by Orora. And the words she spoke next were so soft that Zuko almost missed them.

"Did you kiss?"

He stiffened beside her, and she had her answer. A pang of sadness had her almost wincing as she pursed her lips.

"She did." His voice finally came, soft and sincere. "I didn't."

Normally when the both of them spoke to each other concerning anything, words were their major means of communication. A way to get their point and message across.

But right then, they were barely speaking, and yet the amount of emotion, understanding and comprehension that passed between them was one neither had ever felt before.

Finally, finally, she turned her head, something she had been dying to do since he came up.

Why?

Because she wanted to look at his handsome face.

She wasn't at all surprised to see him looking back at her. The wind blew softly, a few strands of her hair escaping her comb and tickling her cheek.

"Why?"

Her heart was beating fast, though her breathing was calm and slow. She had never seen him look so gentle before. So soft.

Zuko allowed his eyes to roam over her face. From her expressive blue eyes, to that soft looking patch of white hair. And while in the past he had to stop himself from touching it, this time he didn't.

His hand lifted to gently brush the tips of his fingers against the strands. They were just as soft as he had imagined.

In his attempt to stroke her hair, his body had shifted even closer, and tilted slightly so that he was lying at his side. Loosing herself to the feeling of his fingers in her hair, Orora couldn't help but lean towards him, her upper body turning to the side as well.

Their gaze never wavered from one another.

He cleared his throat, wanting to give her an answer though unable to find the words. And somehow, she understood.

So she brought her fingers up, gently pressing them against his lips and giving him a smile, showing him that despite him not saying a word, she knew.

A look of gratitude flashed in his amber gaze, as his hand slowly dropped from her hair, to rest his palm against her cheek. The gesture surprised her, prompting her to remove her fingers from his lips. Though they didn't get very far.

Instead she pressed her fingers gently against the scar on his face. She allowed her fingers to trace along the rough skin, a touch so exquisite and tender, that Zuko was sure it was nothing but a dream.

But the reality of it was that Orora was lying next to him. And she was touching his scar. The ugliest part of him. And she was touching it as if it were the most softest of flowers.

"Close your eyes." He said, his voice a perfect replica of his expression.

Tender.

The girl stopped moving her fingers, though her hand stayed where it was.

She did as he asked.

He moved closer, his eyes closing as well.

She felt his nose brush against her own.

He felt her warm breath caress his mouth.

And in that moment, there was no war.

There was no Fire Nation or Water Tribe.

No Prince or Noblewoman.

It was a moment between a boy and a girl.

A moment under the stars as his lips found hers in a tender embrace.

And the string that connected them together burst in a flash of color.

Blue and Red.

Before it faded once more.

                                          ————————–

Tag List - @wavesofchaos​ @violet-potter​ @rennysketch​ @emma-andrea1 @lovesammikinzz @fuzzyfestcat @msrawog @notsaelty @lust-for-pan @aces-tattooartist @jinxxangel13 @lotr-got @bitterspoons @realrintaro @gatorgirl151 @inutheangel @heartfully10 @lucaaahhh @juniper-july19 @anuttellaa @gfksz @bussyvussy

[valxrsp]

um um um, a seroroki text thread even tho the fandom for this ship is dead, I'm still not over it!! Hanta Sero and Shoto Todoroki are literally boyfriends okay😓

Hanta is the blue text and Shoto is the white text!! ->

hey sho

can I ask you something

Hello Hanta

What did you need to ask?

Is something wrong?

no no everything's okay

I was just curious on something

did you like

yk

have a crush on midoriya

like before we started dating

No? I don't think I wanted to crush midoriya if that's what you're asking.

I may have been annoyed when he tried to make me use my fire but I never wanted to crush him.

That was a long time ago, why do you ask?

no sho that's not what I meant :')

I mean like

did you have feelings for midoriya before we got together

like romantic feelings

Oh

Well, he was the first person to really be friends with me, and he brought out the good in me.

For that, I admired him

So yes, I guess if that's what that means,

I had a crush on Midoriya.

oh

But why do you ask?

like I said I was just curious lol

Hmm

Okay

Well speaking of Midoriya, did you want to come study with us later?

We might get soba, too.

you were gonna go with just midoriya before you asked me?

What do you mean?

sorry forget I said anything

Hanta?

Are you okay?

You're mood doesn't feel the same as it usually is.

I'm okay

you can go on with midoriya

have fun! <3

No

Hanta

I don't want to go if you're not going.

Is this because of the crush question?

..

no

Hanta, is it?

idkkk

maybe

yes I guess

idk I just

was feeling insecure

Insecure about what?

that yk

that you still have feelings for midoriya

I mean he's the best why wouldn't you still have feelings for him lol

Hanta, you have nothing to be insecure about, okay?

I love you.

I want you, I chose to be with you, I asked you to be my boyfriend because you're the one I love.

I don't have any romantic feelings for midoriya.

if I did, I would've asked him out instead.

SHO STOP YOU'RE GONNA MAKE ME CRY

I love you too :'))

you're the best boyfriend in the world

thankyou for the reassurance :) <3

You're so odd sometimes.

I never understand why you get insecure.

WELL BECAUSE YOU'RE LITERALLY THE PRETTIEST PERSON IN UA

AND YOUR SMART AND KIND AND CHARMING AND AMAZING AND FUNNY AND CUTE

AND IM JUST THE GUY WITH TAPE ELBOWS

IM LITERALLY SO PLAIN IDEK HOW YOU CHOSE ME TO BE YOUR BF OUT OF EVERYONE ELSE

Thankyou

But,

you're anything but plain.

I can talk for hours just about how pretty you are, and it's not just looks. You have an amazing personality that I adore.

Also, I wouldn't say I'm the prettiest at ua.

[1americanconservative]

When the first plane struck the North Tower on September 11, 2001, Jack Nicholson was alone in his Los Angeles home, already awake before the West Coast sunrise. His housekeeper recalled later that Jack didn’t say a word that morning. He simply sat in front of the television, his jaw tight, eyes locked onto the screen as the second plane hit. He didn’t blink for what seemed like hours. What followed was an extraordinary period of silence and personal retreat from a man often defined by his voice, expressions, and flamboyant presence.

Over the next 36 hours, Nicholson barely moved. Friends who called said he didn’t pick up. He ignored his agent’s messages and skipped a long-scheduled negotiation meeting with a major studio for a new drama project. A public appearance he had agreed to for a cancer charity was quietly canceled. A source close to him recalled, “He told us, ‘This isn’t a week for business. This is a week for mourning.’ And then he hung up.” The words were spoken with such calm finality that nobody pushed back. They knew he meant it.

Nicholson had always been fiercely private, especially when it came to his emotional world. He never positioned himself as a political voice in Hollywood, rarely attending activist galas or making headlines for statements outside of his films. But September 11, 2001, cracked something inside him, something that didn’t surface through public interviews or stage appearances but rather through actions no one was meant to notice.

He never gave a statement to the press. No tribute video. No interviews. No walk down Ground Zero in front of cameras. Instead, a few days after the tragedy, a quiet call was placed from his team to a victim support group based in New York. Over the following months, Nicholson made sizable contributions to three organizations supporting the families of first responders and flight victims. He asked that none of the donations bear his name publicly. It wasn’t about optics. It was personal.

One of his closest friends, a retired cinematographer who had known Jack since the "Five Easy Pieces" days, said in an interview years later, “There was something heavy in his eyes. Jack can joke about almost anything, but for the first time, I saw him mute. He told me, ‘I don’t want to say the wrong thing. I want to mean it more than I say it.’”

Nicholson reportedly kept an old newspaper clipping from The New York Times’ September 12 issue folded inside one of his notebooks. When asked about it during a private dinner in 2002, he didn’t respond. He just nodded solemnly and returned the notebook to his coat pocket.

An assistant revealed that in the year following 9/11, Nicholson repeatedly turned down projects that required promotional tours. “He said, ‘The mood isn’t right.’ He wasn’t fearful. He was reflective.” That reflection bled into his roles as well. His performance in "About Schmidt" in 2002 was notably subdued and emotionally raw. Critics praised it for its honesty, for its wounded interiority. Many who knew him believed the emotional weight he carried during that performance stemmed directly from the soul-scarring impact of 9/11.

He never revisited Ground Zero, never participated in any Hollywood memorials. But it was his quiet resistance to treating that week like any other that stood out. He continued his personal support privately, even writing handwritten letters to two widows of fallen firefighters after learning of their stories through a friend on the East Coast. One of them, years later, shared the letter. In it, Nicholson wrote, “There are no right words. But know that someone out here, who’s said a lot in his life, is thinking of your family every day in silence.”

In a world where celebrity gestures often scream for attention, Jack Nicholson chose silence, and that silence echoed with more grace than a thousand words. On his birthday today, may he be blessed with lasting health, quiet joy, and the enduring strength of the heart that has always spoken loudest when unspoken.

[hyperfixiation-station]

Choice, Choices, Choices Pt. 2

TW: Swearing, canon typical violence

Pairing: Reader x Graves Summary: Well your week off wasn't very productive, hopefully a really stressful, fate-of-the-world-is-in-your-hands mission will help clear your brain. As usual, I didn't beta read, so lmk if there are an errors :) Also sorry for the reupload, I accidentally deleted it whilst trying to edit something lmaooo.

When Price said a lot, he meant a lot. 

In the time you had been gone, a new terrorist threat had popped up, a man named Hassan who somehow had gotten ahold of American missiles. You didn’t even have time to unpack before Price was shipping you off to Mexico to help Soap and Ghost infiltrate a cartel to find the location of said missing missiles. It seems the talk with Graves will have to wait.

You get no rest on the flight to Mexico. Instead you spend the entire time focusing on your and Grave’s relationship. Maybe it’s the threat of imminent annihilation, or maybe it’s the fact that you are going to be seeing him soon, but whatever it is, you were thinking more clearly than you have all week. 

Graves was a man of authority, and you had recognized it from the moment you had met him. He took what he wanted, when he wanted, and made sure everyone knew he was the top dog. In your relationship he always had the last say, always chose the restaurant, always chose the movie. And for the most part, you didn’t mind, enjoying the feeling of not having to be in control for once when all you did all day long was make choices that could mean life or death. 

He had this belief that he could do no wrong, and was smug and uptight and sometimes even cruel about it. 

And yet there was something…alluring about him. Some magnetic charm that drew you in every time you wanted to take a step back. He didn’t even have to try, hell, he had stopped putting effort into the relationship years ago, and yet you still found him almost irresistible. 

You weren’t stupid, you knew what there were issues in the way your relationship worked, but you loved him, and he…loved you too. It wasn’t until Ghost stepped fully into the picture that you realized that may-

“Y/N!” You flinch, your eyes coming up to meet your pilots as his voice snaps you out of your musings.  

“You okay in there? I’ve been yelling at you for at least a minute.” He says over the headset, “Anyways we’re about to land, so get ready.” You nod, shouldering your pack and making sure your vest is strapped correctly. 

5 minutes later, the helo begins its choppy descent. The second it touches down you are ushered off, ducking under the blades in an odd crab run as you make your way to where Soap, Ghost, and 2 strangers stand to the side. The pilot takes off before you've even cleared the LZ. 

“Good ta’ see yer no’ dead lassie.” Soap grin, clasping your shoulder, “Ah trust Price has briefed ye?” 

“Aye.” You nod, “Though he didn’t mention these two. Who are they?”

“These are th’ Los Vaqueros.” Soap says giddy, “Means th’ cowboys” 

“My name is Alejandro.” The taller one on the left tells you.

“Mine’s Rodolfo, tho y’ can call me Rudy.” The one on the right says moments later.

“Nice to meet you.” You incline your head, avoiding Ghost’s searching gaze, “I take it you’re the ones leading us through this, uh…whatever we’re about to do?” 

“Aye.” Alejandro turns and begins walking, everyone else falling in line behind him, “Soap here is infiltrating Las Almas, we are looking for El Sin Nombre. We believe he knows the location of the missiles Hassan has stolen.” 

You climb into the back of a truck, consciously avoiding sitting next to Ghost. The drive is tense, the silence only occasionally broken by questions from Alejandro and Soap. The truck comes to a stop, and you all pile out, getting Soap outfitted for his ‘Day in the life of a cartel member’ extravaganza. 

“Y/n!” You spin around, seeing Graves walking towards you, “How was your week off?” 

“It was good. Did a lot of…thinking.” 

“Wonderful.” He says, his eyes already looking past you. He presses a quick kiss to your cheek and moves past, going to speak with his Shadows. You sigh internally, moving over to Soap and Ghost. 

“How wis yer week off?” Soap asks as a Shadow helps fit his comms. He’s grinning, his blue eyes almost glowing in the dark, but you can see the faint lines of fear in his expression.

“It was since. Did a lot of thinking, I guess.” Ghost shifts, a subtle movement you notice out of the corner of your eye. Your face flushes, and you’re grateful it’s dark out so he can’t see. 

“Let's roll!” Alejandro calls. Soap nods, and you follow him and Ghost back to the truck. This drive is tense for a whole other reason, everyone thinking about all the ways this could go wrong. 

You get to the compound, and take your spot on a ridge with Ghost. No words are exchanged, but you know him well enough by now to tell he is worried about you. If Soap’s life, and the lives of millions of Americans, weren’t at risk, you would be grateful for this mission delaying the inevitable conversation you have to have. 

You both get into position, sniper rifles trained on the building. You wince as Soap is manhandled, a deep pit of fear in your stomach once he disappears from your view.

 Now all that's left is to sit and wait. 

He emerges victorious, much to yours and Ghost’s relief. He brings with him El Sin Nombre, who apparently is actually a woman, and an old friend of Alejandros. You could see yourself liking her, if she hadn’t sold missiles to terrorists.

She is feisty, smart, and cunning. She keeps her mouth shut, refusing to volunteer the location of the 2nd missile, instead goading Alejandro into a frenzy. You watch, eyes narrowed in distaste, as Graves tries to make a deal with her. Not for the first time, you judge his ability to make decisions. 

But she does give you all the missile location. In what feels like a matter of moments, you find yourself on a boat, heading through stormy waves towards an oil rig off the Gulf of Mexico. Grave’s Shadows launch an attack, only for Ghost to find that the missile not only has entered pre-launch phase, but wasn’t even on the oil rig to begin with. Instead, you find it on the deck of a ship, primed and ready to fire. You, Graves, Soap, and Ghost file onto the cargo ship, where you find that there is no way to disarm the missile. 

Your heart sinks, until Shepard has the great idea to turn the missile on the oil rig. Alejadro and the Shadow Company clear out, and Soap hacks in and resets the missile's trajectory. The burning ball of flame is a beautiful sight to see, in your opinion. 

“Gold Eagle Actual, Shadow-1. Good hit. Good hit. Missile and rig destroyed.” Graves crows,  a grin lighting up his face. He grasps Soaps shoulder, and you watch him mouth a quiet Good work, his voice too quiet to hear over the noise of the shadows and everyone celebrating.

Without thinking, you press a kiss to Ghost’s masked cheek, the euphoria of victory clouding your senses. Soap steps in to give Ghost a moment to recover, and gives you a side hug, slapping you on the back a little too hard for your liking. You don’t notice Graves eyes on you, narrowing with your every action. 

The ride back is still tense, the tension between you and Ghost so thick you can almost taste it. Luckily Soap either can’t sense it, or just is just ignoring it, the Scotsman happily chattering away as the sinking feeling in your heart grows and grows. 

The crisis is over, and once you get back you won’t be able to put off your conversation with Graves any longer. 

It’s still raining when you get back to the Los Vaquero’s base. The truck comes to a stop outside the gates, and you slide out of the truck after Ghost, confused and a bit wary. 

“What’s this?” You hear Alejadro’s voice from the other side of the truck. 

“This is the immediate future.” You stop short, Grave’s voice making your blood run cold, “Step away from the gate.” No. There is no way. 

“You’re outta line Graves.” You blink, hard, realizing you had zoned out for a moment. You force your feet to move again, rounding the truck, stiffening as a barrel is pressed into your spine.

“Hey!” Grave’s voice echoes in your ears, “Let her go. She’s with us.” You inhale sharply, looking up at him in shock. Soap looks at you in betrayal, taking half a step towards you before the Shadows are on him as well. 

“Don't do that. Don't... do that. No one needs to get hurt here.” Graves says, eyes narrowed. 

“Are you threatening us?” You can hear the betrayal in his voice as well, though he does his best to hide it. You want to look at him, try and communicate that you have no part in this, but your mind is still reeling, and you’re unable to draw your wide eyes away from Grave’s face. 

“Soldier, I don't make threats. I make guarantees. So, let's not do this.” The animosity in Graves' voice surprises you. 

“I’m calling Shepard.” Soap turns, hand reaching for his radio. 

“General Shepard sends his regards.” Graves' grin is predatory, and you have no doubt he’s enjoying this, “He told me you wouldn’t take this well.” 

“He knows about this?” Ghost’s eyes are dark, his body tense and ready to spring. 

“He's put me in command of this operation from here on out. So, y'all need to stand down. It's time to let the pros finish this.” You watch Graves still, eyes trained on his face, your brain numb with shock. Shock and…disgust. 

“And why the hell are we talking like this is some kind of a negotiation?” Graves continues, “It's not. I've got my orders and now you have yours.” 

“And who the fuck do you think you are, cabron? My men are inside!” 

“I'm afraid not.” Graves pauses, meeting your eyes with a disgusting grin, “Your men have been... detained.”

“Cabron!” For the first time, you manage to tear your eyes away from Graves, your gaze falling on Alejandro as he launches himself towards your boyfriend only to be beaten down and restrained by his Shadows. 

“Graves, what th’ fuck?” Your eyes dart to Soap as he lunges at the Shadow next to him, holding him hostage. You let out a small cry as Graves and his men open fire. You duck behind the truck, watching as Ghost elbows the Shadow behind him before stabbing another one in the neck, quickly ripping the blade back out and hurling it at another Shadow before disappearing into the dark. 

“Get your fucking hands off me!” Your hands fly up to cover your mouth as you watch Graves slam the butt of his gun into Alejandro’s head, dropping him. You stare at Graves in shock, unable to move as your mind tries to process what's happening. 

Soap yells in pain, snapping you from your reverie as you spin to look at him. He’s on the ground, the Shadow he had taken laying dead on top of him. 

“Go, Johnny! Get out of there!” Ghost yells from somewhere behind you “Soap, Go!” You watch as Soap heaves himself up and throws himself over the barrier, disappearing from your view. You slide down the truck, sinking to the ground as your legs give out, your entire body shaking. 

Graves' actions start to sink in, and gods does his betrayal hurt. It’s like nothing you’ve ever felt before, worse than the time you broke your arm, worse than the time you got shot in the thigh, worse than any wound you had ever received. It’s like a physical pain, your heart feeling as though it’s been ripped from your chest. Tears well in your eyes, your fingers digging into your palms in an effort to stop your tears. 

You don’t know how long you sit in the rain, but it’s enough time for you to be completely soaked head to toe. You are surrounded by blood and bodies, and your mind reels as you survey the scene. Alejandro is gone, you’re not sure when he was taken away. Soaps rifle is still laying in the street, a very damming pool of blood underneath and around it. With the amount of blood he lost, you're surprised he's not dead. Oh gods he better not be dead.

“Y/n?” Graves' voice breaks the fog in your brain, “Darling? Are you alright? I know this was...a bit of a surprise…but I’m sure you understand.” 

“Graves…”

To be continued.

Notes: Sorry for how long this took!!! But it's here now! Hopefully Pt. 3 won't take me another thousand years. Anyways I hope you enjoy, and sorry if this is not the direction you wanted it to go :/ Tags: @redhoodxsupergirl @infpt-zylith @scarletdfox

[gingergofastboatsmojito]

Apologies

IMO Carmy apologizes just fine and not just to Syd, has always done that actually.

Sometimes he just admits his wrongdoing though, and this tone was set very early in the relationship.

This is almost better than saying "I'm sorry" if you ask me BUT only if followed by an actual change in behavior. THAT'S THE PART HE FALLS SHORT AT, NOT THE APOLOGIES PER SE. (keep reading if you wanna know why because there’s a scientific explanation for that, it’s not his fault yet it is his responsibility to overcome it)

Brigade | 01x03

Braciole | 01x08

Braciole | 01x08

OK, OK! He didn't say "I'm sorry", true. He just admitted his behavior was not OK, which still counts. And then he tried to redeem himself by offering to share his lifelong dream with her. Whether that's even better than an apology or not, I'm not willing to debate, some may think it might be. I'm not one of them, I think a change in behavior is the best apology

BUT to be fair:

Syd didn't apologize either for leaving the take-out option ON, she just offered him a second chance, which means that at that point neither one of them were apologizing with words, they were BOTH using actions instead.

The reason being, the feelings that started brewing beneath the surface, they didn't wanna acknowledge them, they deliberately chose not to and intended to move on. The decision was made. They decided to "keep it profesh", thus they couldn't voice them out because if they did they were gonna upgrade them to "real/official" and they were nowhere ready for that nor were they willing to do it, for that matter. So, in fact, at that point, they probably even decided they were never gonna be and gave up before even giving it a second thought.

In his case the progression of that was quite obvious:

<That's why C showed up shortly after, btw. It just fits the timeline they both tacitly started building since Braciole.>

AND BECAUSE LOVE FOR CARMY MEANS THIS↓

"It always gets fucked."

In her case, I can only guess because the sadist completely deprived us of her juicy background story pretty much, but I could bet an obscene amount of money on Syd having a similar idea of what love might entail, that's why no matter how loving and nurturing she is, she doesn't really let anyone in - refer to her tattoo for symbology pls -

She puts up walls:

More about that here:

Luckily in S3 they are getting flimsier by the minute, but still.

Back to his apologies

Pasta | 02x02

In Pasta he apologized and taught her the "Sorry" sign, even when he wasn't the one who did anything wrong because it was Syd who fucked up the lacto ferment.

Then he did apologize when appropriate a few days later:

Sundae | 02x03

Bolognese | 02x08

Omelette | 02x09

Omelette | 02x09

The Bear | 02x10

Tomorrow | 03x01

Apologies | 03x09

So as you can clearly see, he has no problem apologizing to anyone when he means it, his problem starts after the apology because even when he meant it, even when he's truly repentant, he fucks up, which IMPO is actually a trauma response → linked to his C-PTSD to be more precise. He self-boycotts because his brain is wired that way after years of enduring abuse. Meaning, Carmy has ABI (Abusive Brain Injury), which is a type of non-traumatic brain injury (although it could also be TBI if the abuse was also physical) that leads to damaged brain tissue resulting from years of consistent psychological and sometimes physical abuse, like the one he suffered when around Donna and Eleven Madison Dickhead. His 2 main abusers.

In other words, he's wired for failure till he overcomes his trauma, which as I keep saying, will happen in S4 because he has already started his healing process and had his breakthrought in 03x10.

You can read more about the correlation between ABI and abuse here.

Why he doesn't apologize to the C person?

Glad you asked, I already answered that question a while ago:

But it could also be because Syd didn't greenlight him in 03x01 or because C actually told him: "Never apologize". OR because:

I'm going to stick to the theory of it being a denial by-product, though, as I explained in the 1° meta above about GUILT being his main driver just because it's very IC of him. However, it wouldn't be a stretch if it were a combination of all these factors.

Bonus track: He doesn't have a problem with saying ILY either (if he really means it that is, he won't take it lightly), the problem is being on the receiving end of those words because they usually are the preface of a very painful story for him, a story where he usually ends up getting hurt and disappointed.

Remember to follow my tag #Gingerpovs 💋

[anmechokola]

(SPOILERS FOR CHAPTER 1147)

The title of the chapter is "What we're afraid of" (我々の恐いもの), a direct parallel to chapter 1142's title, "What I'm afraid of" (わたしのこわいもの). In this one, we see some of what the adults fear, comically (the Giant Warrior Pirates being defeated by mothers) and seriously (the potential destruction of the library and school, the kidnapping of their children, becoming the World Government's slaves, etc). The fact that this chapter's title is written in kanji vs 1142's title written all in hiragana also reinforces that these fears are now focused on the adults. Children learn kanji gradually, since there are so many of them, so it's normal for them to write things using hiragana where an adult would use kanji. There is also a contrast between the individual and the collective here, what I fear vs what we fear

.

(chapter 1147)

So Saul, as a former Vice-Admiral, has knowledge of the God's Knights, which isn't really unexpected. Though, since later Sommers did just tell the whole island that he was a part of the God's Knights, it might not be as much of a secret as we thought? Or maybe he just has confidence that the giants will heed their threats and become servants of the World Government, so it wouldn't be a problem if they knew

The word Saul uses to describe them is 不死身 (fujimi) and the official translation chose to use "immortal", but it could also mean invulnerable, or insensitive to pain. Now I may be nitpicking with this, but I don't think Saul meant that they are immortal in the sense of having lived a long time, just in the sense that they are indestructible. The wording bothers me a little because we already have people in the story who have been shown to be immortal in the sense of living a long time (the Elders, Imu) and there is no indication so far that the God's Knights share that kind of longevity, or at least not all of them (Shamrock has only been alive as long as Shanks has, unless he was lying about being a twin, and Garling has visibly aged since God's Valley, so maybe something happens when you become an Elder that stops you from aging). When Saul says 不死身 it actually reminds me more of Marco and his powers, since the word phoenix 不死鳥 (fushichou) is written with almost the same kanji, only switching body (身) for bird (鳥) and, as far as we've seen, he's immortal in the sense that as long as his powers are working his body is indestructible, not necessarily that he doesn't age

What Ivankov says when talking with Sabo and Dragon when they're discussing the possibility of the Imu that Sabo saw in Marijoa being the same Nerona Imu of the original 20 nations is 不老 (furou) which does means everlasting life, or more accurately everlasting youth, so it's not the same thing

And when Law and Doflamingo are talking about Law's devil fruit powers, Law calls it "Immortality Operation" or 不老手術 (furou shujutsu). Note that he uses the same term that Ivankov used, so more like an operation of everlasting youth/life. He also explains it as giving someone the gift of "eternal life" or 永遠の命 (eien no inochi), which does translate literally to an eternity of life.

(chapters 1086 and 761)

My unnecessarily long point is that the moments I remember of characters talking about immortality in the sense of living an unnaturally long life, the term they use is not the same as what Saul said. So he probably just means that attacking them is pointless because they can just regenerate from damage. I still think it's interesting that they seem to have the same abilities as the Elders, it seemed like a much more exclusive power when I saw it on Egghead

.

(chapter 1147)

So Brook not only knew about the God's Knights, but he also seems to know something about Gunko in particular, who is finally showing both her eyes in this chapter, by the way.

Also her reaction after hitting him is interesting, isn't it? Why does she seem to be in pain? The only one so far who successfully managed to "hurt" her was Usopp, and it didn't seem to have done much damage. I know some people have speculated that it's because she's hitting Brook and it pains her to do it, but she hasn't really been seen to have any compassion so far, so to me that doesn't make much sense.

Maybe I'm projecting on this, but what if it has something to do with Usopp? In the last chapter, he's the first one she targets (even though it was Jinbei and Brook who clocked her as a Celestial Dragon and God's Knight), he's the only one who landed a hit on her, she then goes to attack him again before the others try to intervene and he's the last one of them she knocks down. I'm just saying, in this chapter she seems to be in pain after kicking Brook, but also after Usopp yelling

(chapter 1146)

.

(chapter 1147)

Given how Collun has been mirrored a lot with Luffy, I don't think it's a coincidence that there are 10 captured children, to mirror the 10 Straw Hats. Oda named and focused on each kid's reaction, which means they'll probably have more of a role than the kids in Punk Hazard, who except for Mocha function more like a unit of children for the others to save. Someone also mentioned that they could be Collun's future crewmates, which also makes sense to me, since it would be one more parallel to Luffy of being the next generation of adventurers, with Luffy and the Straw Hats being to them what Shanks and the Red Hairs were to Luffy (since this is Thee Shanks/Luffy Dynamic Arc, I'm thinking a lot about mentor/mentee relationships and kids being inspired by adults to follow their dreams, and such)

.

(chapter 1147)

So there is the surface level fact that burning a building down is the easiest way to destroy it (especially full of flammable stuff like books), but it's also a pretty symbolic gesture. It not only makes readers remember real life events of book burnings to destroy knowledge and keep people under control, but fire is also one of Elbaf's stated weaknesses, so the fact that fire would be what destroys their culture, their new way of life and the sacrifice of the Ohara scientists that they tried so hard to preserve and protect is also pretty meaningful.

(chapter 1147)

Look, I know this is a stressful time and emotions are flaring and people wouldn't really think rationally with so much going on, but man. If you know anything about Ohara, then you know that mentioning Ohara + knowledge of the world is a surefire way to get stuff destroyed by people who work for the World Government, right?

Also, I think it's funny that after telling the giants to burn down their buildings he complains about Ange with 暑苦しい (atsukurushii) which means sweltering, stuffy or oppressively hot​. So the fire of her passionate speech is too much for him, but go set fire to those cultural monuments lol

<- chapter 1146 analysis

[zarathelonewolf]

I cannot for the life of me figure out something about the Angel in Gachiakuta.

It seems to be Tamzy Caines, right? That's what was revealed. However...

Why would he "rescue" Amo, give her the boots?

Why????

I mean, it doesn't make a lot of sense to me. I have read people say that Tamzy may have volatile feelings (maybe he wanted to share the cake but then something in his head cackled hysterically and he chose not to), but he seems almost always cool and collected to me. Not the way Zodyl is, but still pretty calm, and he can hide his fears and homicidal tendencies very well.

Why. Did. He. Help. Amo. That. One. Time.

Why.

Is it part of a bigger plan? Here are my theories. They aren't necessarily separate and independent, maybe there are true elements in both of them.

Theory 1: Don't bite on more than what you can chew

A hypothesis I have is that Tamzy had given the Watchman series Jinki to various people: one Jinki for each of them.

If my theory is correct, Regto was killed because he had the gloves... AND the book. Maybe he wasn't meant to have the book and that's why Tamzy DID take the book, but didn't take the gloves away from Rudo: the gloves WERE supposed to belong with Regto and whoever he chose as family.

Perhaps Amo received the boots because, much like Regto, the man who held her in the tower after their "marriage" (blegh) had stolen the boots... and she hadn't. I also think she had a greater potential to cause harm, so Tamzy chose her as a more suitable owner for the Watchman series.

When she failed... when she wasn't violent anymore... Tamzy attacked her, and segregated her.

Notice that I am speaking about violent tendencies. I am doing so because Rudo, according to Semiu's, Tamzy's own observations and those of other characters, has something dark growing within him. Maybe Tamzy wants people like these to own the Watchman series. That's why he "allows", in my opinion, Zodyl to own the coat, why he allowed Amo to own the boots, Regto the gloves.

But, here's the thing! Regto wasn't a violent individual at all during the moments we see him. So maybe Tamzy didn't simply attack him because he had the book, but because he wasn't a suitable pawn anymore, as well.

Theory 2: Stairway to Heaven and Hell

A theory I have is that the Watchman series itself gives someone the potential to cross the border and live. Not an absolute guarantee that you're gonna cross it, but it can increase your chances. It may or may not be connected to what I have just observed, about someone's "aptitude/level of violence desired" for the role of Watchman-series-custodian.

The theory comes from the fact that Tamzy was able to cross the border, just like Rudo, even if they did so by going in opposite directions; and while Rudo certainly had the gloves on, we don't know if Tamzy had the book with him.

When Tamzy went up, it was months before he killed Regto. Did Regto notice that Tamzy was looking at Rudo suspiciously? Did he steal the book, or ask to receive the book under a false pretense? Did Tamzy realize that it was to try and keep him from Rudo, so he killed Regto for that reason?

When he has the book, Tamzy returns to the surface. But not before. Amo doesn't seem to hint at seeing the Angel more than that one time when she received the boots. Which makes me assume that Tamzy stayed on the Sphere for a while, saw Rudo, was antagonized by Regto directly or indirectly due to his twisted "love" (supposedly because he had found the perfect match for a piece of the Watchman series, and possibly the rest of them), killed Regto, got the book he had lent back and then went back to the ground.

And after that, he stopped moving in order to monitor Rudo.

There is a creature that guards the border. Maybe Tamzy serves it. But it seems to me that he was born on the Sphere, which the Manga says he hates, so a possible allegiance with the creature may have come later, instead of Tamzy being it's simple offshoot. It could otherwise be hypothesized that the creature is worshiped by Tamzy, who considers people that survive meeting the being "blessed" and worthy of consideration, of "love".

... I lost myself halfway in this ramble. Ignore it if it's too confusing.

[meganslife]

Pen pals - p. parker

TASM! Peter Parker x Fem! reader

summary: peter parker is your pen pal.

warnings: none so far!!!

hello helloooo!!! i had this idea because i myself have a pen pal, and it’s honestly really fun and reminds me of peter. this will be multiple parts!! anyhoo, happy reading!

Having a pen pal was fun. It gave you something to look forward to whenever you needed to open the mailbox. It was nice, although your lovely pen pal, Peter, was on the other side of the country. You were in Seattle. He was in Queens, New York. It was a nice arrangement that you two had. No phone numbers, just handwritten letters, and cute little pictures.

When you opened your apartment mailbox and saw that you had a letter from Peter, your heart felt warm. It was the warmest you’ve felt in a while.

Y/N,

My apologies for not writing you back sooner. School is kicking my butt recently, and I moved back in with May (hence why a new address is on the envelope). My old roommate went BALLISTIC on me for little things, so I decided I needed to leave. May is a better person to have around, anyway.

The fall semester ended last week, and I wish I could say that I passed my finals. My professors are just mean, I think. I’ve been super stressed out lately, and writing this letter is helping me. You’re my savior. Also, the pictures you sent me of you in Tennessee are amazing. You should be a model! I’m sure you hear that a lot because of how pretty you are;)

I hope it’s not too cold in Seattle. I took some pictures of random things I thought you’d like, maybe that’ll distract you from how cold it is. I know how much you hate the cold. (You chose the wrong place to live!)

Anyhoo, I’m sorry this letter is short. My wrist is cramping up and May needs help with dinner. Write back as soon as you can.

Much love,

Peter ♥

Photo one: Peter in an obnoxiously large New Year’s Eve hat, grinning from ear to ear with his friend(?)

Photo two: A Polaroid of stray cats bonding in what you assume is Peter’s front yard.

Photo three: A Polaroid of Peter that was clearly taken by May. Peter is holding a tray of muffins, and he looks really stupid in his apron.

You get to writing him a letter right away.

Dear Peter,

I love the pictures. I’ll add them to my growing collection on my wall:)

My day has been so shitty. I wish you were here. It gets lonely, sometimes. I have friends, I’ve told you very little about them. They’re great, don’t get me wrong, but living alone is just lonely. Maybe I should get a cat or something. I need something to come home to. (Sorry for making this portion of the letter sad. I just needed someone to talk to.)

The weather in Queens looks nice. You’re awfully lucky, Peter. It’s cold and slushy here. I’m cold to the bone. Like, nothing will warm me up. It’s annoying. I just want it to be summer again. I hate being pale and cold.

I don’t have any pictures as of right now, so I’m sorry about that. I have some drawings I could give you.

My letter is short too, so I guess we’re even. I need to nap the sadness away.

Cold and loving,

Y/N ♥

~

The next letter you receive from Peter is about a week later.

My dearest Y/N,

I’m so sorry you aren’t feeling well.

I know we said we wouldn’t exchange phone numbers, and I respect that, but I just need to give you mine. I need to. Just in case. I don’t want you to be sad and lonely and have to wait for my letters to come. I like you. I like you A LOT– And I honestly want to meet you in person but that’s a conversation for another day. I’ve been saving up for it. Maybe you should come during the spring? You’d love it here, I know it. Or I could come to you? Whatever, we can talk about it more over the phone.

My phone number:

(718)-XXX-XXXX

Call me;)

Love always,

Peter ♥

You immediately spring up to your feet and grab your phone. Your hands were shaking as you dialed the number and called it, praying he wouldn’t think it was a spam call.

“Pete?” You ask, voice higher than you meant it to be.

Boyish laughter erupts on the other end of the line, and you already know that it’s Peter. Of course, his laugh would sound so sweet.

“Hi, lovie.”

[my-castles-crumbling]

Anon Advice Asks - May 12

functioning anon, powerless anon (new), galaxy anon, unofficial anon (new), fanart anon (new)

functioning anon

hey cas. it's functioning anon.

thanks for taking the time out of your day to answer, it meant a lot to me and i appreciate it.

here's the ask: life is hard. i don't want to die, but life is so hard. and i feel so many confusing emotions - i want to give up and not do anything ever, because why do i even exist? i shouldn't, really. but then two minutes later im smiling and having the best time of my life.

and realistically i know my life is probably way harder than the average person's, but i still can't forgive myself for not measuring up. each night i come back home exhausted and unable to move, and i sleep for like 5 to 6 hours before going to school and repeating. and i chose this life, i love it, but i want to give up every single fucking second of it. and im only in middle school. a few months later ill be in high school and the workload will be even greater.

i hate my body and i hate how i look (im fine being a cis girl, but i want to look more masculine) and i hate my personality and i hate that who i show i am to other people isn't who i really am. only a one or two of my friends and my family actually have seen the real me, and no one except myself truly understands or knows me, and it's so frustating.

and despite your advice last time helping me out a bit, i still feel like im just floating through life, like its not actually me, just a ghost pretending. it's so so hard to enjoy myself, i find myself smiling a lot less often. not fake ones, those i do all the time, but real smiles.

i just want to have a normal life. i don't understand - i love my family and my friends, they're awesome. no one bullies me or troubles me in any way. i should be happy, but i'm not.

im probably just faking it.

sorry for the super long ask, you don't have to answer, i just wanted to vent.

Hi <3

you're not faking it, and you're definitely not the first person to feel this way <3 But you also deserve to be happy with your life, and to enjoy the life you live. Do you have any adults in your life you trust to tell you're feeling like this? I'm not a professional or a doctor, but some of the things you're saying make me think of how I felt when I was around your age and I was diagnosed with depression. Asking for help when you feel this way can a lot of times make a HUGE difference, because you can find ways to work on these emotions, and feel better, you know? You deserve to feel better.

Sending love!

___

powerless anon

Hey cas

I accidentally got into a really bad rabbit hole where I just saw so much anti trans and anti abortion stuff online and it makes me so sick.

It just makes me lose so much faith in humanity to see that stuff.

I’m very comfortably cisfem so I can’t fully understand obviously, what it’s like to be trans but I can still do my best to make people feel comfortable because at the very least, everyone deserves respect.

I accidentally saw a bunch of very right wing yt shorts about abortion and trans rights and I checked the comments and scrolled a fair way down and I couldn’t find a single comment against it.

it just makes me feel so powerless because there isn’t much and I can do and I’m still in high school.

I just really needed to vent

Hi!

yeah, there are a lot of gross people in the world. But the good news is you aren't completely powerless. You CAN call people out. Of course, keep your safety in mind, but if someone at your school or in your community says something bigoted, you can tell them that they're wrong. Even if you don't change their mind, you can be a signal to someone listening that they're not alone. Especially when it comes to anti-trans speech, since you are a cis person, when you call that shit out, you're showing trans people that we have cis allies fighting for us, and that means a lot <3 Like I said, make sure you're safe about it, but you do have a voice, and that's super important <3

___

galaxy anon (tw- SI)

Hi hon <3

I'm going to be so honest with you right now. These exams feel like the biggest thing in the world. They feel like a mountain that's impossible to climb, and I get that. I have been there. I have failed exams, I have made shitty choices that changed my life in bad ways, and I have sat where you are and wondered why any of it is worth it.

And what I'm going to say is cliche but I need you to know it's true: It's been ten years since then, and all of that has been solved now.

You're talking about a VERY permanent solution to a temporary problem. Even if you fail every single exam you take, I PROMISE you, there's a way out of that. It might be difficult, but there IS a way. I believe in you, I love you, and there are other solutions.

So I need you to talk to someone. If you're not ready to tell them this is how you're feeling, that's okay. Of course, I'd love for you to tell them everything, but I get why that's scary. At least tell someone you're overwhelmed. Sit with someone. Breathe. I promise you it will be okay, and you deserve to get past this.

Remember on my pinned post, there's a link to some crisis hotlines. But I know you can get through this, I know you can talk to someone. I believe in you, and I believe YOU can believe in you, too.

Update me, okay?

___

unofficial anon

Hey cas

I think pakistan just declared an /unofficial/ war on us (india) and I'm scared. I'm down south so I most probably won't be affected. But the prospect of it just disturbs me immensely.

Why do these things occur cas? Why do people want to kill other people? I'm told it's a religious war too, is this what god wanted?

I'm so sorry, hon <3 I can't imagine how scary that is. I googled it and it sounds like there's now a ceasefire?

As far as the religious component...that's hard for me to comment on, because I'm not religious, and I don't understand that part of it, you know? I don't know the history or the feelings there. But I have to believe that war was invented by humans, not God. War is flawed, just like humans are.

___

fanart anon

sometimes i can't believe how hateful some people in this fandom are! i saw some fanart and i was reading the comments, right? some people were speculating whether it was jegulus or jily and someone in the comments just mentioned that they thought it was jegulus. another person responded about how it was jily and began to be very rude to the person and say things such as 'i hate jegulus and jegulus fans are so dumb' and i just couldn't believe it. why can't we just try to get along and respect others opinions? first and foremost, they are FICTIONAL characters😭

Hi!

Yeah, it's frustrating. I try not to get involved because I think those people are just looking for someone to be angry at- there's people like that who ship jegulus as well. Find the positive parts of fandom and stay there.

[novamariestark]

Slip of the Tongue - Alden Parker

Summary: You accidentally call Alden his pet name in front of the team

Warnings: None, except maybe, use of a pet name

Word count: 1681

Fandom: NCIS

Pairing: Alden Parker x reader

[A/N] I've been working on this for weeks and it didn't really end up as well as I pictured it in my head but I am happy that my lazyass brain let me write something.

You hadn’t meant to say it. It was an accident. Just a slip of the tongue. You knew for sure that Nick was never going to let you live this down.

You and Alden have been together for about six months and for the sake of your professional relationship, you kept it secret. At least you did. It didn’t take an investigator to figure it out.

You all hadn’t long come back from a crime scene and whilst you were there, you spotted someone suspicious. His body language set him apart from all the other onlookers. That’s when Gibbs’ voice popped into your mind.

Rule 35: Always watch the watchers.

You were the team’s profiler and one of the best. Many agents came by and asked for your thoughts on possible motives or to observe an interrogation. Your journey into psychology and profiling began when you were just 15 years old. When you met Ducky. At that time, he was in the middle of his pursuit of his master’s degree in psychology. The world of the human mind had held a certain mystique that had captivated you from the start, just as much as Ducky's stories did.

When Ducky decided to retire as ME, he personally chose you and Jimmy as his successors. You initially apprehensive about taking that role given the size of the shoes you had to fill but Ducky believed that you were both more than capable to do the job. As it turned out, he was right. As usual.

When you got back to your desk, you immediately started to investigate the onlooker you had seen. You started to run him through facial recognition hoping to find something. Whilst you were waiting for a hit, you looked through the crime scene photos, looking for something you may have missed when you took the photo.

A little over an hour later, your computer beeped, and like meerkats, the team all looked up from their tasks.

“Ooh, sounds like [Y/N] has something,”

You shook your head, you hadn’t found anything, just the name of the onlooker, “No, it’s just an e-mail, ignore it,”

The team exchanged glances but didn’t push any further. You turned your attention to your “e-mail” and began scouring databases, cross-referencing information, and followed his digital trails, determined to find out if he had anything to do with it.

Soon you find out that he’s got a lengthy list of offences, violent ones, “McGee?” you spoke up, shifting in your seat to look at him.

“Yeah?” he asked looking away from his screen giving you his full attention.

“Have you looked into the wife yet?” you asked, leaning back in your chair.

McGee couldn't help but chuckle. "Don't tell me you're following Tony's logic," he teased, referring to their former colleague's penchant for the saying, "It's always the spouse."

You joined in the laughter, shaking your head. "No, just wondering. I mean, I could if you're busy,"

McGee scrunched his eyebrows at you, “Okay, what are you working on over there?” he asked getting increasingly curious.

You glanced around the room and noticed that the entire team had turned their attention to you. You sighed and then looked back at Tim. "Rule 35," you said simply.

“Really? Someone set off your spidey sense?” he asked, you nodded in response.

“Care to share?” Alden asked, “What’s rule 35?”

You chewed your lip, would he be annoyed you kept this to yourself? You opened your mouth to answer but McGee beat you to it.

“Uh, Gibbs’ rule 35. Always watch the watchers,” he explained.

“I uh, saw a man in the crowd of onlookers. His body language was different than everyone else,” you explained further, “It was just a hunch, if it led anywhere, I would tell you guys,”

“And did it?” Alden asked, standing up from his desk and walking over to yours. You looked up at him. Sometimes you wondered how you managed to concentrate at all with how damn sexy he was. All. The. Time. But you did.

“Um, the guy I saw has a restraining order against him by a Naomi Fisher,” you shrugged, “I know that’s the first name of the victim’s wife and…” you stopped when you saw a look on his face, one you couldn’t decipher. Not that you’d tell Nick that, “I’m sorry, I just thought that it was suspicious, I should have told you,” you looked down at your hands on the desk, at the keyboard, anywhere away from his eyes. Beside you, you could hear the clacking of McGee’s keyboard.

“Naomi Wilkes’ maiden name is Fisher,” he spoke up with a laugh.

“Oh, come on,” Torres groaned playfully from the other side of you, “How am I supposed to kiss ass if you’re always using your superpowers?”

Alden smiled at you, “Good job,” he said before turning to walk away.

“Thanks, daddy,” you said, immediately clasping your hands over your mouth. Alden stops dead in his tracks.

The office fell into a stunned silence, and the team's jaws dropped making it clear that they had caught your slip up. Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment as you realized what you had just said. Oh shit. Why did you say that? Because he praised you? Was that your weakness?

What the hell, of course it is. You were surprised you lasted this long.

You quickly looked at Alden, "I'm sorry, Alden,"

He gave you a subtle, reassuring smile, “It’s alright, [Y/N]”

Jess exchanged a knowing glance with Tim, who wore a subtle grin and Nick was trying and failing to suppress his laugh.

“Okay, stay focused still got a case to solve. Everyone back to what they were doing,” Alden said returning to his desk, “[Y/N], create a profile on your onlooker,” he said with a smile.

You smiled back, “Sure,”

***

You delved into both his and Naomi’s background, their relationship going as far back as pre teen years. They dated, he got multiple arrests and she filed a restraining order against him 5 years ago after he almost killed her little brother. He is currently out on parole. You found the number of his officer and rang them up. After the call you find that he’s missed his appointment with his parole officer and can’t be found. You decided to call metro and ask if they could place some officers outside Naomi Wilkes house just in case he returned.

“Okay, I’m done,” you said standing up, you faintly hear Nick mumble ‘this’ll be good,’ he enjoyed watching you analyse things, as did everyone else. Especially Alden, he found it completely sexy.

“His name is Jon Milton. He was recently released from prison on parole however his parole officer doesn’t know where he is. Anyway, he has an obsessive fixation on Naomi. He is unable to accept the end of their relationship. This is a possible motive for the murder of Craig Wilkes, likely an attempt to regain control over her and may even be punishment for her moving on. He’s narcissistic, he believes he is entitled to her affection, her love, her loyalty. He sees her choices as a direct threat to his self-esteem and he reacts with anger and violence to reassert his dominance. He has a violent history which indicates that he has often resorted to aggression as a means of gaining control. He’s delusional. He’s convinced himself that killing Naomi’s husband was the only way to regain her affections. He also exhibits psychopathic traits. He’s lacking empathy or remorse for his actions. His return to the crime scene to watch Naomi grieve her husband's death demonstrates sadistic tendencies. He derives pleasure from her pain and relishes in his own cruel actions,” you finished your presentation of your findings and looked to everyone.

“I believe he did it,” you added, nodding your head to his picture on the screen, “I also believe he will continue to harm those near her. I called Metro and asked them to have officers posted outside her house,”

As the team mobilized to verify your hunch about the onlooker being the murderer, your investigation took a turn. McGee began combing through stolen car reports, cross-referencing them with camera footage from the victim's neighborhood. Soon, on one of the cameras, he spotted the stolen car, parked on the same street as the victim's residence.

Meanwhile, Kasie, the team's forensic expert, was hard at work analyzing evidence from the crime scene. She finally came across all the prints you pulled from the porch banister. Kasie ran it through the database. It matched the onlooker's known prints. This was another piece of the puzzle falling into place.

As you all pieced together these findings, your phone rang. Your BOLO alert had come back. The onlooker had just been spotted a few streets away from his ex's house. You thanked the man and immediately called the officers that were sat outside her house to warn them and let them know they were on their way.

“He’s just been spotted a few streets away from the Wilkes’ house,”

“Alright let’s move,” Alden said as he started gearing up.

***

Later that night, after you all got back after arresting Milton, you were all back in the bullpen. McGee was getting ready to leave. So were Jess and Nick, but they all noticed that you and Alden weren’t moving.

“So, uh,” Torres spoke up, “Was he playing with his plants or…”

“Don’t even finish that sentence,” you laughed at him.

“Yeah, please don’t,” McGee begged.

“Okay, okay,” he said walking away, towards the elevator, “Don’t stay up too late!” he called over before the doors shut.

“I’m sorry,” you sighed, you knew he wanted to keep it a secret. Well not so much a secret, just he preferred to keep your professional relationship and your personal relationship separate.

“Don’t worry about it,” Alden reassured you again, “At least you don’t have to come up with all these different lies anymore. When Torres asks you to hang out you can just say you’d rather hang out with me,”