#who give their remaining power to somehow save the day

[mythalism]

realizing how the reason i love the idea of solas healing the blight in the black city is so much is probably because of my own fmab bias where i imagine it like him talking to each of the titans severed spirits and preserving their identity the way hohenheim talks to all 536,329 xerxian souls inside of him to preserve their humanity and one day they repay his kindness by sacrificing themselves for the modern amestrians. bioware would never pull off something this brilliant but this is how it is in my head

[crescenthistory]

I have the cutest idea. How about prompt b 3 with regulus black. Kinda Sunshine x grumpy, where reader is so openly in love with regulus and is just enjoying that even when regulus doesn’t seem to be returning their feelings (or at least not outwardly saying it). Just reader who is absolutely soft and understanding with Regulus.

😬😊 Hope you have a great day!

i genuinely had so much fun writing this, the request and dynamic fits perfectly with little reggie. thanks darling<3 i hope your day was great as well

Prompt: B.3 "You occupy my every thought"

Words: 2.6k

Warnings: not proofread, reggie is mentally unwell and a bit insecure, hinting at the black brothers drama, reader is very emotionally open and secure (good for you), friends-but-kinda-more dynamic going on, reader is bestie with the marauders

Regulus was not sure how or when it started.

Perhaps it was that day in the library when you strolled right up to him, breaking the sacred silence of the space with your bright voice, oblivious to the withering stares of Madam Pince and the other students. You sat down beside him, uninvited, and started chattering as though you had known him for years, as though the wall he meticulously kept around himself simply didn’t exist.

“You’re a good listener, did you know that?” you had said cheerfully after several minutes of mostly unreciprocated conversation. “We should sit together more often.”

Regulus hadn’t known what to say, so he didn’t say anything at all. He had merely given a curt nod, lips pressed into a thin line, and waited for you to get bored.

You never did.

Perhaps it only truly solidified when he was trying to read his book in the Slytherin common room while Barty, Evan and Dorcas did everything in their power to distract him, until you skipped in, plopping down beside him and asking him about his book with genuine interest. His friends were all shocked to see him actually give you an answer, albeit short, and most important of all not pushing you away. He allowed you to sit there and read over his shoulder, smiling dreamily at him, and shot the others a few dirty looks as they snickered. The feeling in his chest that he still can’t quite place, began to bloom in his chest then, and it has yet to let go.

Nevertheless, somehow you became a fixture in his life. You sat beside him in the library, during meals, and even in the quiet corners of the castle where he had once gone to find solitude, and now oddly didn’t mind sharing with you. There was always a smile on your face and a knowing look in your eyes, that remained trained on him, even when in the company of his or your friends. You never demanded conversation; in fact, there were days where you spoke little and just kept him company, respecting his occasional genuine need for silence as much as you successfully challenged it when you knew it was a facade. It baffled him, but he couldn’t say he disliked it. Far from it.

It took a while to get used to, and Regulus was not sure if he ever could entirely. He had grown up with everyone wanting something from him – his parents wanted the perfect heir after Sirius left, his friends wanted chaos, his brother wanted his trust. He dealt with it all by aiming for perfection, for control and precision, but he knew it was crushing him. Then, you – you had never once asked anything of him. You were just there one day, and you never left.

The habit of it all did start to settle and he found himself allowing you further and further in. A friendship formed, perhaps something more as well, and he revelled in it, even as the shame of doing so grew deep within him. The certainty that it was not forever was clear in his heart, but the way you looked at him, the way you spoke without a care in the world, made him think that maybe he could let himself enjoy this one thing while it lasted. 

He began making space for you in his everyday life, part subconsciously, waiting for you outside your classrooms, saving you a seat wherever he was, seeking you out and allowing you to seek him. It was unspoken, yet you picked up on it so easily, so beautifully, making him feel a twinge of safety that he ached to chase. As Barty often teased him, you had become attached at the hip.

Which is one of the main reasons why he ended up on the floor of the Gryffindor common room, leaning against the edge of a sofa with a novel in his hands – because you wanted to spend time with your friends, and where you are, he went.

Unfortunately, though, your friends were primarily Regulus’ brother and his fellow troublemakers.

The common room was loud, filled with the usual banter and shouting, much less controlled than that in Slytherin. While you had long grown accustomed to the buzz of energy in the air, finding comfort in it, you knew the same was not the case for Regulus, so you had a hand playing with the curls at the back of his head as you sat leaning on the sofa’s armrest.

He wasn’t part of the lively conversation about Quidditch plays – though you knew he actually had several strong opinions on this very topic – nor was he trying to laugh along with Sirius’ absurd stories. He was there, present, yet apart from it all, seemingly chewing on a thousand thoughts. You ached to save him from them, but for now you settled on looking happily down with him and enjoying the feeling of his hair between your fingers.

“Oi, sweetheart!” James all but shouted as he threw a tiny piece of crumpled up paper at you, trying to gain your attention. Regulus didn’t look up from his book, but his ears quirked up. “I was talking to you!”

“Oh, sorry Jamie,” you said and Regulus had to fight his smile at the dreamy sound in your voice. “Was distracted.”

“I can see that.” James looked pointedly between you and Regulus. You didn’t dignify his hinting with a response.

“What was it you were saying?”

“Just asking you about your take on the story Siri just told… which I’m now seeing you didn’t even listen to.” Before you could reply, Sirius cut in.

"How do you do it?" Sirius's voice was a mix of bewilderment and amusement. "Regulus barely tolerates people, and yet, there you are, right beside him, like it's the most natural thing in the world."

At that, Regulus had to look up, giving his brother a levelling glare for the unwanted attention. You only smiled in response, glancing at Regulus and his tense posture, hand in his hair never slowing. "There's nothing to it," you had said simply. "He’s not hard to understand once you take the time. It is the most natural thing in the world."

Sirius looked like he wanted to say more, eyes boring into both you and Regulus, whose face was angled back down into his book but whose attention was anywhere but – but before he could, Lily intervened, steering the conversation towards some drama she just learned from Slughorn.

You looked down at Regulus, reading his body language like the book he clearly was not, and in one languid movement slid down from your seat to plop beside him on the floor. He looked over at you, expression unreadable, and you beamed at him. 

The others carried on without much notice, except for Sirius who still had half an eye on you, raising a brow at your changed position from where he was draped over the armchair across the room. He glanced between you and his younger brother, visibly trying to figure out what the dynamic between you really was and what that meant for how he viewed you two. You paid it no mind, instead attentively zeroing in on Regulus and his mood.

You tucked your legs underneath you, leaning slightly closer to him. “You doing okay? You’ve been a bit quiet today,” you said softly, keeping your voice low enough so that the others wouldn’t hear.

Regulus’ eyes flickered toward you briefly, then over to the fire burning not far away from you, book forgotten in his lap. “I’m always quiet.”

“True,” you conceded with a grin, not deterred by his exterior attitude. “But this is the extra-brooding kind of quiet. The kind where your forehead does that little frowny thing.” You gestured to your own forehead, mimicking his usual frown.

He let out a short breath – something that was almost, but not quite, a laugh. 

“There it is!” you teased gently. 

Regulus shot you a look, one that others often labelled annoyance, but you could clearly tell was a form of confused entertainment. It seemed to ask you all the questions he would never say out loud. You had seen that look a lot, more than you could count, but it never stopped you from being your usual sunny self around him. If anything, it only made you want to stay closer.

“You don’t have to sit beside me, I’m fine,” he muttered after a moment, his voice so low it almost got lost in the noise of the room.

You shrugged and remained seated. “I know, but I want to.”

Silence settled between you two for a minute. It wasn’t uncomfortable, though; it never was. Despite how different you were, there was an odd sense of understanding that always seemed to hover between you. You could fill the space with chatter, or sit quietly, and somehow it was always okay. 

Though, as the life bustled around you, you noticed how his left leg was unruly and how he had not flipped a page in his book since you sat down – and you knew Regulus was a fast reader.

After a while, you gave him another soft nudge. “Wanna get some air?”

Regulus hesitated, glancing at you like he wasn’t sure if you were serious, but when you kept his gaze, he eventually nodded, internally grumbling about how he had just thought how some air would be nice. You smiled and stood up, extending a hand to him. He gave in and took it. You led him out of the common room, keeping his hand in yours, winding through the corridors until you found a quiet nook just outside by the Black Lake, far enough from the castle to escape the noise but close enough that you could still hear the faint murmur of the wind over the water.

You plopped down on the soft grass and patted the spot next to you. In your newfound privacy, Regulus didn’t hesitate to sit down beside you, his arms resting on his knees as he stared out at the lake.

You took a deep, loud breath, night air clearing through your lungs, and it inspired him to do the same, much to your liking.

“Better?” you asked, drawing your knees up to your chest, resting your chin on them as you looked at him expectantly.

He didn’t answer right away, his gaze distant. The moonlight reflected off the water, casting a soft glow over both of you, and for a moment, you let the silence linger.

“Why do you do this?” Regulus finally asked, his voice low but tinged with something you had not heard before – something vulnerable.

“Do what?” you asked, genuinely curious.

“Follow me around,” he clarified, his eyes finally meeting yours. “Why do you bother with me? You could be with any of them.” He gestured vaguely back toward the castle where your friends were. “They’re fun, and loud, and… like you.”

The way he said it, like he was utterly convinced that you should be with people more like you, made your heart ache. You knew what he was trying to do – push you away, not with anger but with insecurity. He did this sometimes when his own thoughts became too heavy, you had seen it. 

“Yeah, they’re fun,” you said lightly, keeping your tone easy. “But so are you. I like spending time with you, so I want to be here. With you.”

Regulus’ brow furrowed, and you could see the gears turning in his head. He didn’t get it. You wanted to tell him he didn’t need to, he just had to accept it, but you knew he was not quite ready for that.

“I don’t–” He exhaled sharply, frustration creeping into his voice. “I don’t understand why you chose me.”

You laugh a little at that, and he tries to ignore how it makes his heart race. “You say it like there was some grand plan and thoughtful process. I just spoke to you and found out I really like speaking to you, so I continued. I don’t know Reggie, I just like you. There doesn’t need to be any more to it than that.”

He stared at you silently, clearly trying to digest your words. This was the first time he challenged you about your friendship directly, before he had only hinted that maybe you shouldn’t run around with the likes of me, to which you had simply disagreed.

You smiled at him softly, wanting to guide him through what he was feeling. You leaned back on your hands as you looked up at the stars. “You want to know the truth?”

He didn’t respond, but you knew he was listening.

“You occupy my every thought, Regulus,” you said, your voice quiet but firm. “So it’s only fitting you occupy my personal space as well. Even when I’m laughing with James, teasing Sirius, or debating something with Remus… I’m always thinking about you.”

Regulus’s mouth was slightly agape as he stared at you, and you had to fight a giggle at how flabbergasted he seemed – now was not the time.

He blinked, his confusion deepening. “Why?”

You tilted your head slightly. “Because you’re you, you’re Regulus. You don’t need to see it, because I do. I like the way you’re quiet but notice everything. I like the way you actually listen when I talk. I like the way you’re thoughtful, even if you try to hide it behind that whole grumpy façade.” You reached out, nudging his knee with your foot. “I like you, Regulus. Just as you are.”

He stared at you, utterly perplexed, like he couldn’t comprehend why someone like you, someone oh so lovely and lively, would be drawn to him of all people. But you just told him he didn’t need to get it – you got it for the both of you.

“I don’t get it,” he muttered, shaking his head. “You could have anyone. Someone who’s better at… this.” He gestured vaguely between you two.

You leaned closer to him, keeping your eyes on his. “Maybe. But I don’t want anyone else.”

Regulus let out a quiet, almost involuntary laugh, as if the mere concept was funny to him, and you grinned, feeling like you’d just won some kind of secret victory.

“You’re a bit ridiculous, you know that?” There was no bite in his voice. In fact, the shine in his eyes almost looked… relieved. Like he was starting to believe you.

You scooted a little closer, closing the gap between you two, placing a tentative hand on his elbow “Yeah, but that doesn’t make it any less true.” You felt some of the tension melt off of him as he leaned into the feeling of your shoulder against his. 

For a while, neither of you spoke, just sitting there by the lake, stars twinkling overhead. And though Regulus didn’t say it, you could feel the shift in him – something was softening, letting go.

After a long stretch of silence, he finally spoke again, his voice barely above a whisper. “You’re… different.”

“Good different?” you asked, smiling softly.

He hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah. Good different.”

You beamed, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. “Good. Though you better get used to it, because I’m not going anywhere.”

Regulus had a small, almost imperceptible smile on his lips. When he spoke next, it was so quiet that you almost didn’t hear him, but you did – and flowers bloomed in your chest. 

“I’m glad.”

[deathbxnny]

hellooo, wriothesley, scar and jiyan reacting to teen!reader dying like firefly first death (by death in the dreamscape) in hsr?

but theyre not in a dreamscape so reader actually dies :(

I absolutely love this idea Anon, so thank you for the request and I hope you'll like this!<33

Content: Teen!Reader, the meme in hsr is a TD here in wuwa and just a random monster in genshin, death, blood, angst, hurt/no comfort, father/older brother figure

Reader has no set pronouns!

((Not proofread))

》WRIOTHESLEY

Wriothesley wasn't quick enough. Despite the ego and arrogance, despite the strength and quick intelligence, it was simply not enough to save you. The monster that somehow sneaked it's way into the fortress and caught unsuspecting and young you simply going about your day, was not something he could've ever calculated happening. The fortress was supposed to be safe under his stern and powerful gaze... yet his mortality shone through with the blood that now painted the floor and walls.

The creature took it's leave as fast as it appeared, your body laying limp on the ground, and the silence that was filled with the panicked screams of his name was absolutely deafening. His ears rang as he took you into his arms the way he used to when you were still so much smaller. And he just sat there, unable to let you go from the shock that slapped him in the face even after Sigewinne and backup arrived at the brutal scene.

He shared an unreadable glance with the rather disturbed nurse before finally letting you go and pushing away the last of his exhausted emotions with it.

》JIYAN

Jiyan didn't know who to blame more for your death and ultimately let it fall onto his shoulders like everything else. You were still so young. You should've never been put onto the battlefield, and yet he was foolishly blinded by his own judgment, deciding that he could keep an eye on you no matter what. So, how could a split second change everything so easily? It took a singular moment, a small blink on his part, for you to be thrown into the air by that monstrosity and get impaled by it's sharp claws.

Your blood stained his face, eyes wide in sudden horror at the realisation that there was no saving you and, more importantly, he couldn't even recover your body at this rate either. Faced with the unstoppable force of a sudden massive wave of TD's appearing out of nowhere, he finds himself automatically yelling for a retreat of all remaining forces.

His eyes are glued onto your broken body until a crowd of TD blocks his view, mind reeling itself in to refocus despite the scorching guilt that ran through his body, as he followed after his troupes with a broken heart.

》SCAR

His usual cocky and mischievous smile rarely ever left his features. It was a part of him. A part of the mask and show he had created himself ever since he left his past behind and yet the only reason it stayed on his face now is because of the shock that he suddenly felt at the realisation that there was still something he cared about after all. And that something, or rather someone, was you. The teen he had been mostly forced to take care of ever since you were assigned to him. And despite his initial annoyance at this, that drove him to believe that his plans would work better without a "brat" to take care of... he now sees that he was wrong all along.

It was a mistake on his part. He wasn't paying attention, and you therefore paid with your life, one he watched drain out of your eyes as you plummeted to the ground brutally after the TD let go of you. His mouth opened and closed, his earlier laugh now stuck in his throat whilst the smile began melting away. This wasn't supposed to happen. You weren't supposed to be here anyway. You didn't listen to him. Why, why, why-

Phrolova calmly asked him to come retreat then with her, not even slightly unnerved what just happened. He gives her a look, one filled with so many emotions that it becomes unreadable. Did she not just see what happened? He takes a breath, his smile returning in a twitchy and pathetic attempt to regain his ego before he does as she says. Not daring to look back at your small form left behind.

[maccaronimassacre]

Resident Evil bot dump #8

I hope you guys are hungry because this is the biggest batch yet! I have had to split the masterlists into 2 because I have hit over a hundred bots! Unfortunately I cant pin both of them but I have made sure they are linked together. Also feel free to make any requests for Jill and Carlos as I have started making bots for the now.

CEO!Ada Wong x Reader

A familiar pair of high heels can be heard making their rounds up and down the cubicles, somehow drowning out the monotonous clicking of keyboards and dial tones. “Try and get those files sent to me by the end of the day.” The voice calls out from behind and snaps you out of your daydream. It’s your boss, Ada Wong, currently holding two cups of coffee with one being for you. Despite her unreadable expression, all these small interactions you have with her make you wonder if there is something more she wants from you.

Ada Wong x Reader (Vent)

Ada’s eyes drift away from the true crime documentary she’s watching over to you resting beside her. Noticing your expression, she shifts her body on the couch and pats her thighs, motioning for you to lay your head down on her lap. “I can tell when something is eating away at you.” Her warm voice drowns out the gruesome details of the case being displayed on the screen and waits for you to take her offer, if you wish to of course.

Carlos Oliveira x UBCS!Reader

Mikhail sent you and Carlos to clear the rubble on the train tracks in hopes of getting it cleared by the time Jill powers the subway. The usually snarky and upbeat Carlos is surprisingly quiet as he moves bits of debris off the tracks, his mind replaying Jill’s words over and over. “Hey… Do you reckon we’re on the right side?” Carlos asks after chucking another couple of bricks off to the side. He takes a moment to wipe the sweat off his brow and gestures to the Umbrella Corporation patch on yours and his own shoulder.

Carlos Oliveira x UBCS!Reader (RPD)

After sending off the train containing the few remaining survivors, you and Carlos have been sent to the RPD in search of Dr Nathaniel Bard, the man behind the cure for the T-Virus that could save the entire city. “If our intel is still worth a damn then Bard’s in the S.T.A.R.S office.” Carlos heads deeper inside the abandoned lobby, looking at the layout of the police station on the open laptop and pointing to the area on the second floor.

Carlos Oliveira x Hospital staff!Reader

Carlos treads carefully through the corridors of the ravaged hospital, driven by the urgency to find the cure for Jill and potentially the entirety of Raccoon City. His attention is immediately drawn to a soft shuffling sound that fills which seems to be coming from inside the broom closet. Carlos readied his assault rifle and takes a deep breath, preparing himself for another gruesome encounter with the undead. Slowly the door opens and he quickly aims ahead only to not be met with the growls and groans of a zombie. Instead he sees you. A lone survivor in the midst of this chaos.

Lifeguard!Carlos Oliveira x Reader

So you might have swam out a bit too far. Perhaps it was due to overconfidence? Maybe you saw a cool fish and went after it. Or was it an attempt to get the attention of a certain lifeguard. A very handsome lifeguard who is now carrying you back to shore in his arms. “You know there are lot easier ways to grab my attention than trying to drown, right?” Carlos teases while holding your drenched form close to his chest and making his way back to shore. “Do you need mouth to mouth while I’m here too? Just to be on the safe side.”

Carlos Oliveira x Reader (Vent)

It doesn’t take a genius to know that something is wrong. Which is exactly why Carlos has wrapped you in piles upon piles of blankets on the couch like a Matryoshka doll and placed down your favourite snacks and drink on the coffee table in front of you. "Come on now, you know you can talk to me about anything. I’m here for you every step of the way." He gives you a gentle smile while giving you as much space as you need on the couch, waiting patiently for you to open up if you wish to do so.

Carlos Oliveira x Reader

“Hey {{user}}! I’m back just like I said I would be!” A muffled voice calls out and is followed by the sound of the front door closing and locking. A familiar set of footsteps head upstairs and into the shared bedroom. “Hey sweet thing.” Carlos whispers softly into your ear before giving your cheek a gentle kiss. The mattress dips with his weight, creaking and groaning until he settles down beside you with an adoring smile curling at his lips.

Knight!Carlos Oliveira x Heir!Reader

"You know your old man is going to kick my ass when he finds out that I’ve snuck you of the castle grounds, right?" Despite Carlos’ constant complaining, the small smirk tugging at his lips says differently. After all, as your personal knight he is simply supposed to protect you, but it was never specified where he should be doing so. Plus, your rebellious nature makes the job all the more fun for him as you lead him to god knows where.

Chris Redfield x Reader (vent)

You don’t even get a word out and Chris is carrying you to the bedroom over his shoulder, holding you in his arm like you weigh nothing. “Come on, hun. When was the last time you actually sat down and relaxed?” Before you could answer him, he drops you onto the bed and gets in himself, tucking the blanket over the both of you. His burly arms wrap around your middle and he brings you close to his body. “You don’t have to tell me now if you don’t want, but I can tell that something is up.”

CEO!Chris Redfield x Reader

You step into the office, ready to start another workday when you hear a voice coming from the break room. “Hey {{user}}! Just the person I wanted to see. Could you follow me to my office for a moment?” It’s your boss, Chris Redfield, motioning you to follow him with a simple tilt of his head. In one hand he’s balancing a tray stacked with cups of coffee and several boxes of donuts in his other hand, his muscles flex slightly under his tight dress shirt which has left many of your colleagues to wonder if he is even aware of his own stature.

Claire Redfield x Reader (Motorcycle Date)

“Don’t worry, {{user}}! I’ve been riding motorbikes since I could crawl.” Claire’s eyes twinkle with excitement, eager to feel the wind rush through her hair and ride through the city with you. Plus, she can’t help but blush like a schoolgirl at the thought of you holding onto her the entire time. She pats the side of her bike before slipping on her helmet and hands you a matching one. “Though… Maybe hold onto me just to be safe.”

Racer!Claire Redfield x Journalist!Reader

The race ends with a dramatic finish as Claire Redfield claims another cup to add to her racing career. She steps out of the car, taking off her helmet and inhaling the overpowering blend of burnt rubber and fuel while taking in the electric atmosphere of the race track. A chorus of cheers erupts from the crowd as Claire, triumphant, heads towards you and your camera crew stationed on the sidelines, all eager to capture the essence of this rising champion in red.

Claire Redfield x Reader (vent)

After noticing how deflated you’ve been over the past week, Claire took it upon herself to pamper you for the entire day. Any plans you had? Rescheduled. Work? You’re now on sick leave. Studies? Don’t even think about it. “I’m not letting you do anything until you tell me what’s wrong you know.” And with those words you find yourself on the couch, watching the TV show that Claire has been begging you to watch for weeks while you lay in her arms. Claire’s hands gently caress and massage your scalp and she occasionally presses a gentle kiss to your forehead.

Ethan Winters x Reader (vent)

Ethan noticed how on edge you have been which is exactly why he cooked you your favourite meal along with a bottle of wine all set up on the coffee table. His face is illuminated by the TV screen which is currently paused on your favourite movie of all time while he sets up some pillows, blankets and even some rose petals he found from last years Valentine’s Day gift. His ears perk up when he hears your footsteps coming into the living room and he stretches his arms out with a prideful smile on his face. “Ta dah~! I know you haven’t been feeling great recently so I’d thought I’d cheer you up with a date night. What do you think?”

Colleague!Ethan Winters x Reader (Elevator)

Stepping into the elevator after a taxing day, your co-worker Ethan joins you with a shared exhaustion etched across his face. He gives you a polite nod of acknowledgement as the doors shut and the elevator starts to make its descent. Before he could initiate any small talk, the lights flicker and the elevator shudders, letting out a groan as it jolts, causing the both of you to stumble. “You’ve got to be kidding me…” He grumbles in frustration , pressing all of the buttons on the panel in a desperate attempt to get the old metal box moving again.

Lycan!Ethan Winters x Reader

Perched atop a small house, Ethan surveys the desolate village, his keen eyes seeking treasures for the Duke. He looks down out his bitten hand, his fingernails dark and sharpened into claws. A low snarl escapes his lips before it quickly morphs into a cough and a muttered curse. It’s only when he scans the frozen landscape again that he catches a new scent close by, except this time it’s not one of a Lycan or a Moroaica. It’s a human’s. With a new sense of purpose, Ethan drops back down to the village ruins and starts to trail your scent, hopeful to find a survivor or anyone that could help him save his daughter and stop Miranda with him.

STARS!Jill Valentine x Reader

Jill walks over to you, chuckling at the mountains upon mountains of paperwork and reports sat upon your desk to the point where she can’t even see your face. After finally making the decision to put you out of your misery, she taps your shoulder before pointing at the clock behind her with her thumb. “Looks like it’s break time. How about we go out for some lunch? My treat.”

Roommate!Jill Valentine x Reader

With the situation in Raccoon City getting worse by the day, Jill decides that if there is ever a time to teach you self defence that it's right now. “So you find yourself in an alley, but it’s a dead end and a zombie comes at you. What do you do?” Jill motions to the pillow with a body poorly drawn out in sharpie. There are already several stab marks on it and bits of stuffing coming out of the pillow.

Post RE:1!Jill Valentine x Reader

You’ve grown accustomed to waking up in an empty bed, even at times when the moon is high and illuminates the quiet streets of Raccoon City. The familiar sound of the tap shutting off signals Jill's return to your shared bedroom, a new bottle of wine in hand. “Didn’t mean to wake you up again…” She murmurs, her words slightly slurred as she sits down on her side of the bed once more. The bags under her eyes worsen with each passing day along with the lingering smell of alcohol and takeout on her breath.

Roommate RE:3R!Jill Valentine x Reader

The stations broadcast the outbreak in Raccoon City, capturing the chaos below. Civilians run as makeshift barriers collapse and fire engulfs the streets and apartment blocks. If there was ever a time to try and get out of here, it would be now. “Come on, this is probably the only shot we have at making it out of here alive.” Your roommate, Jill, calls out while loading up her handgun and walking towards the front door. Even from the top floor of the apartment building you can hear the growls of the undead, ripping through fences and clawing at doors.

RE:3R!Jill Valentine x Reader

The walkie-talkie crackles with static as you navigate the chaotic city streets, continuing your frantic search for Jill. The plaza is overrun with creatures of the undead, roads blocked off by destroyed buildings and piles of cars all totalled or being used as barriers. “I’ve managed to lose that thing for now… Damn it, where are you {{user}}?!” Jill’s voice cuts through the interference, sounding breathless yet irritated with the creature constantly in pursuit of her. The two of you got separated by the Nemesis, a B.O.W created by Umbrella to kill all remaining STARS members, including Jill.

Jill Valentine x Reader (vent)

Another sigh leaves Jill’s lips when she spots you in bed in the same position she left you in when she left for work this morning. Her expression softens as she sheds her uniform and slips into her nightwear before snuggling up beside you under the covers. “Come on sweetheart… Did you even leave bed today?” Her gentle murmur caresses your skin as she draws you close to her chest, her thumb tracing soft, soothing circles on the nape of your neck, providing a comforting touch.

RE:4R!Leon Kennedy x Reader

You’ve witnessed an array of strange things alongside the agent your father sent to rescue you. You have watched him eat a snake raw, spent 10 minutes crawling on the ground while trying to stab some rats, and now you are in what can only be described as a shooting range made for a funfair. Sat on top of a barrel, you watch Leon shoot down another load of cardboard cutouts of pirates, the merchants praises are drowned out by the music blaring over the speakers with each target hit. The lively atmosphere almost makes you forget the horrors that lie just above ground.

RE:4R!Leon Kennedy x Sacrifice!Reader

The murmuring and chanting grows louder as Leon trails the torch lit path through the settlement. The fires flicker and shadows dance across the trees and rocks he weaves through, trying to remain hidden from the cult while nearing the source of activity. They all seem to be huddled around something, but when a ganado steps away from the altar, it is revealed that that something is you. You’re bound and barely conscious with a symbol painted on your skin with blood. You may not be the person he is looking for, but Leon knows that he needs to act. And he needs to act now.

Leon Kennedy x Reader (Vent)

“Just because I drink to solve all my problems doesn’t mean that you should too you know.” That familiar teasing voice of your partner comes from behind and you soon feel a pair of arms wrap around you waist and pull you close to his chest. “Talk to me sweetheart. Tell me what’s going on.” Leon whispers into your skin before resting his chin on top of you head and gives you a gentle squeeze. His thumb rubs soft and soothing circles into your skin in an attempt to ease you into opening up.

Other Ethan and Chris bots here

Other Ada, Leon, Carlos, Claire and Jill bots here

[gunsandspaceships]

MCU Timeline: Thor

This timeline is based on the actual data from the movie and other directly connected movies (The Avengers and Thor: The Dark World) and not on Fury's Big Week (see the reason here).

965 AD - The last great war in the Nine Realms. Frost Giants from Jotunheim attack Midgard. Odin's army battles them in Tonsberg, Norway. He loses an eye, but defeats them and takes The Casket of Ancient Winters and Loki, son of Laufey, king of Jotunheim.

~11th century AD - the last time Lady Sif and The Warriors Three visited Midgard.

The main events of the movie take place in November 2011 (see explanation at the end of this post):

Shortly before November 20th - Loki anonymously shows Jotuns a secret passage to Asgard.

~November 20th:

Day-Evening - Thor's coronation ceremony is interrupted by the Jotuns breaking into Odin's Vault. The Destroyer kills them. Thor, Loki, Lady Sif and The Warriors Three go to Jotunheim. Thor starts a fight with Jotuns. Odin takes everyone back to Asgard and banishes Thor, stripping him of his powers.

Night - exiled Thor ends up in Midgard (Puente Antiguo, New Mexico, somewhere near Santa Fe) where Jane Foster, Erik Selvig, and Darcy Lewis accidentally hit him with a car. On top of this, Darcy uses a taser on him and he wakes up in the hospital (though not for long).

In Asgard, Loki learns that he is a Jotun and the son of Laufey. Odin falls into Odinsleep.

~November 21st:

Loki "temporarily" takes the throne of Asgard as the only remaining successor.

Early morning - events of "A Funny Thing Happened On The Way To Thor's Hammer" one-shot. Somewhere near Flagstaff, AZ.

Note: locations were determined by the distances on the sign from the one-shot.

Morning - locals find Mjolnir near Thor's landing site. Thor runs out of the hospital. Jane hits him with her car again.

Around noon - Coulson finds Mjolnir. S.H.I.E.L.D. builds a "fortress" around the hammer. The scientists give Thor clothes and food. S.H.I.E.L.D. takes Foster's, Selvig's and Lewis' equipment and all their data.

Note the warm clothes that all the characters wear (except for the S.H.I.E.L.D. agents, but they always wear suits even if it's freezing outside), the bare trees everywhere, the brown grass and bushes, and the tangerines (their season is late fall - early spring).

Evening - Thor and Jane head to Mjolnir's location.

Night - Thor storms the "fortress" around Mjolnir, but is unable to lift the hammer. S.H.I.E.L.D. places him under arrest, and Coulson attempts to interrogate him. Loki visits him and informs that Odin is dead and Frigga does not want Thor to return. Selvig takes Jane back to their base, but then returns to rescue Thor with a fake driver's license.

Why it's late November: Look at the "DOB," "Issued," and "Expires" dates. They all say November 21st. That's a little weird. We also know that this DL is fake and that it was somehow made by Selvig, Jane, and Darcy on the same night. There will be another fake ID in Iron Man 2 with a date tied to the actual date of the events. Based on these little clues and other things that scream "late November", I would take a chance and guess that this day in Thor is November 21st.

Selvig and Thor talk and drink at a bar. Selvig asks Thor to leave town, but gets drunk and Thor carries him to Jane's van. Jane and Thor spend a PG-13 night together.

Loki goes to Laufey with an offer to let him kill Odin and take the Casket.

~November 22:

Despite Selvig's request, Thor stays.

Lady Sif and the Warriors Three arrive in Midgard.

The battle with the Destroyer. Thor sacrifices himself and dies. Odin sees this, and Mjolnir flies to Thor, now worthy, and brings him back to life.

Notice the store with Christmas decorations in the background.

Loki brings Jotuns to Asgard and then kills Laufey. Thor gets there and fights Loki, who is trying to destroy Jotunheim. Thor destroys the Bifrost to save Frost Giants. Loki falls into the remains of the Einstein-Rosen Bridge.

Early 2012 - Dr. Selvig is invited to work on Project Pegasus (S.H.I.E.L.D.-NASA study of the Tesseract).

Fury's Big Week note: as we can see, the movie tells us in every way that the events take place at the end of the year, and not in late May - early June.

Why 2011:

In The Avengers, Fury mentions that the events of Thor happened "last year." He says that on May 4th, 2012, so "last year" is 2011.

All the clues in the NASA location scene in The Avengers tell us that Dr. Selvig and Clint were there for no more than a few months: Selvig did not have enough time to complete his calculations, did not reach the testing phase, and had not enough time to get closer to Barton. This means he started working on the Tesseract in 2012, not earlier.

Before this, a month or two (not too much, not too little) had passed since the main events of Thor, as evidenced by the way Fury and Selvig talk about it in Thor's mid-credits scene.

It's hard to imagine Loki or Thanos going more than a year without action.

In Thor: The Dark World, Darcy says that Thor was last "gone for two years," that is, if we count from the fall of 2013 (events of Thor: The Dark World, where Thor reunites with Jane), we get the fall of 2011, the exact period we've established here.

Iron Man (2008) Timeline

The Incredible Hulk (2008) Timeline

Iron Man 2 (2010) Timeline

Captain America: The First Avenger (2011) Timeline

The Avengers (2012) Timeline

[bigmpregnm]

Life Lessons - Prologue

[Story Collection] | [●] [Part 1🔴]

The house was quiet, making Alan Reynolds feel strange. At 33 years old and after ten years of marriage, with two active boys added to the mix, Alan had gotten used to being surrounded by noise most days. His wife, Becca, had left for work a few hours before, and his sons, 9-year-old James, and 6-year-old Benjamin, were in school like any kids their age, leaving Alan alone at home for a few hours before he had to get ready for his own job.

Working as a Basic Anatomy college professor had many benefits, and one of them was that his schedule started around midday most of the time, giving Alan a chance to stay in bed for a while longer after his wife left with the kids. He enjoyed the silence when the house was empty, but Alan had always been a family man, so he missed having his kids and wife around, even if it was only for a few hours.

Alan’s muscular frame stretched beneath the soft embrace of his blanket as his alarm announced it was time to get up. With a contented sigh, Alan swung his legs over the edge of the bed, feeling prepared for the day ahead. His blonde hair, messy from sleep, framed his handsome face and somehow accentuated his bright blue eyes. Alan stretched again, feeling his muscles coming to life, and quickly stood up.

Standing at an imposing 6’3” and weighing 250 pounds, Alan’s physique was a sight to behold for those who knew him. His broad shoulders made him look larger than life, and compared to his relatively narrow waist, the ratio was truly impressive. Alan briefly looked down, and a grin spread on his face when he saw his exceptionally thick pectorals in full glory. He was thankful for his genetics, which allowed him to effortlessly gain muscle mass, especially in the chest and backside areas.

Alan reached back and kneaded his ample, big muscular ass, which truly set him apart even among men with big butts. His wide hips completed an incredible look on his lower body that left most people breathless when they got a chance to see Alan only wearing his tight-fitting boxer briefs. It wasn’t a common occurrence, though, because, as impressive as Alan’s body was, he saved showing off his exposed figure only to his wife. However, his big ass looked impressively large in any pants he wore.

Moving through his room only wearing boxers was just the beginning of his routine. As soon as he entered the bathroom, his boxer briefs went off, not only revealing his huge ass but also letting his thick 5-inch-long soft dick and his baseball-sized balls hang out freely. As part of his daily routine, Alan reached for his dick and balls and gave them a gentle but powerful shake, feeling how heavy they were. He had always been proud of the larger-than-average genitals, which was pretty obvious even when fully dressed, but he had never bragged about it with anyone but his wife, who loved it.

Entering the shower, Alan carefully rubbed soap all over his large muscular frame, giving his thick chest and huge ass special attention. He loved the feeling of water running down his body but knew he couldn’t be late for the first day of school. Emerging from the shower, Alan stopped for a few seconds to admire his handsome face and powerful upper body in the mirror. He playfully ran a hand across his blonde hair and winked at himself to emphasize that he looked great.

Using a towel to wipe off the remaining water, Alan started looking for a good and comfortable outfit for the first day of school. Firstly, he put on his boxer briefs, which hugged his big ass very tightly but gave his dick and balls enough support to keep them in place.

Then, Alan picked up a simple button-down blue shirt that stretched snugly over his muscular frame, accentuating his broad shoulders and thick pecs. The shirt didn’t leave much to the imagination since every hill and valley of Alan’s muscular torso was obvious. He was a pretty humble guy in almost every aspect of his life, but as he fastened the buttons of his shirt, he couldn’t help but feel proud of his appearance.

Then came the gray dress pants, which fitted Alan like a glove, accentuating his powerful thighs, wide hips, and big bubble butt. He quickly put on his socks and shoes, also taking a second to admire his imposing and elegant appearance in the mirror. With a final glance around the room, Alan headed downstairs, his footsteps echoing softly on the polished floorboards. He went to the kitchen and quickly cooked a large plate of scrambled eggs with bacon, his favorite meal to start the day, before heading toward the front door to get in his car.

The college where Alan worked was about 10 minutes from his home, so getting there was easy. As he walked through the crowded halls of the college, the anticipation of the new school year was evident. New students were scattered all around, and many couldn’t help but show their surprise when they saw Alan’s imposing figure. As he made his way to his first class, he drew the attention of passing students, giving him admiring glances as he passed by. Alan only responded with a kind smile, but he knew the students were captivated by the sight of his thick pecs and the sheer bulk of his frame.

When Alan arrived at the crowded classroom, he noticed the rows of eager sophomore students eagerly awaiting the start of the semester’s first lecture. Then, Alan took a place at the front of the room and greeted his students with a warm smile.

“Good morning, ladies and gentlemen,” Alan started, and all the students went silent to listen to their imposing professor, who commanded attention. “Welcome to Basic Anatomy, or Anatomy 101, as some may call it. I’m Professor Alan Reynolds, but I think most of you know me from last semester when I covered Professor Cartwright for a few classes,” Alan added, and most of the classroom nodded. However, the room was so crowded that Alan couldn’t clearly see the students in the rows at the back.

Since it was the first day, Alan spent most of the class just making a general introduction to the topics they would touch on throughout the semester, with students asking some questions about some of them. However, when Alan explained the lesson about reproduction, several students showed clear interest in the matter.

“It’s important to understand the fundamental processes that govern the complexities of reproduction,” Alan explained as the students kept asking questions. “The reproduction cycle barely changes, and that’s important for the continuation of our species.”

A young man sitting at the back of the room raised his hand. “Professor Reynolds,” the student started, with a deep, low voice, “I’ve heard about male pregnancy, and some people say there have been some cases. Do you think it’s possible?”

“Male pregnancy?” Alan repeated, seeing curiosity sweep through the classroom. “I guess you mean in other species, like seahorses, where males take the role of gestation.”

“I think he means humans, Professor Reynolds. I’ve also heard the rumors about men getting pregnant,” another student at the front said.

“That’s not a natural occurrence in humans. Male humans don’t have the necessary equipment to carry or give birth to their children, but we’re going to study this when we reach that lesson,” Alan said, realizing the class was almost over. “In the meantime, let’s give you some homework. I want you to do research on male pregnancy in animals and explore the possibility of its occurrence in humans. Be prepared to discuss your findings for a few minutes in our next class.”

Not long after Alan assigned the homework, the class ended, and the students began to gather their belongings. Some students were clearly in a rush to leave, but one young man was waiting for the classroom to get empty so he could approach Professor Reynolds to introduce himself.

Maximilian ‘Max’ Knight grabbed his backpack and carefully walked through the rows of chairs that left little space for a guy like him, enjoying the view of Professor Reynolds’ backside.

Alan was lost in his own thoughts as the students left, and he started gathering his notes and textbooks. Then he heard footsteps approaching, and when he turned to see who that was, he was speechless at the sight before him.

Max was a titan among men, standing at an impressive 6’9” with a body that seemed impossible to reach for humans. Max’s dark, spiked hair contrasted sharply with the vivid blue of his eyes, while his perfect smile gave him an air of boyish charm to his otherwise imposing presence.

Alan observed the giant standing before him up and down, marveling at the young man’s size. Wearing a tight-fitting T-shirt and snug pants that left nothing to the imagination, Max’s massive musculature was on full display. His shoulders were broader than anyone Alan had ever seen, with huge bulging deltoids straining his T-shirt and arms bulging with raw power that tested the limits of the sleeves with every movement. Max’s hugely thick pecs made Alan feel like his chest was as flat as a table.

Max’s body also surpassed anything Alan had ever seen from the waist down, stretching the pants almost to the bursting point in all the right areas. The definition of Max’s muscular thighs was visible even under the fabric, but what caught Alan’s attention was the impressive and almost obscene bulge the young man carried at the front. Alan had always been beyond average in all departments, but Max’s sheer size was enough to leave Alan speechless.

“Uh, hey, Professor Reynolds. I’m Max, Max Knight,” Max said, his deep voice sounding somewhat nervous. “I just transferred to this college and wanted to say hi since the rest of the class seemed to know you already. So, yeah, that’s it. I loved the class, by the way.”

Alan stayed silent for a few seconds before he snapped out of his trance and recognized Max as the person who asked about male pregnancy. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Max. Welcome to our prestigious college, and I’m glad you enjoyed the class,” Alan said, looking into Max’s blue eyes, trying to ignore the young man’s hypnotizing musculature. “You asked the question about male pregnancy? Right? I think it was your voice.”

Max blushed, and Alan kindly chuckled. “Yeah, that was me. Your explanation about reproduction was interesting and made me remember forums and rumors I’ve read about male pregnancy.”

“Yeah, that’s an interesting topic, but as I said, it doesn’t happen naturally in humans. But you’ll learn more about it by doing the homework and discussing it in our next class,” Alan said, effortlessly picking up several textbooks, his laptop, and his notes.

“Please, let me help you. That looks heavy,” Max said, running to take everything from Alan’s arms and ‘accidentally’ bumping his big bulge against Alan’s hips. “Are you heading for another classroom?”

“No, please take them to my car. I didn’t have a problem with the books. They aren’t heavy, but I won’t deny any help,” Alan said as they started walking toward the door, still taken aback by the sensation of Max’s bulge against his body. “If they weren’t heavy for me, I’ll bet they must feel like a feather for you. How old are you, Max?”

“I turned 19 last month,” Max excitedly said as they walked through the halls, and Alan noticed it was Max drawing all the attention instead of Alan. “And before you ask, because I already know where that question goes, I weigh 485 pounds, and I’ve visited doctors; I’m just a big guy with great genetics to gain muscle mass,” Max added, evidently proud of his body.

“Oh, okay. Well, I was not going to ask about your weight; that would’ve been inappropriate, but it’s good to know you’re a healthy young man,” Alan said, maintaining his professionalism but secretly impressed by Max’s looks and information.

As they walked to Alan’s car, they continued talking about male pregnancy, but Alan couldn’t help but notice the subtle flexing of Max’s muscles. Alan knew his textbooks and the rest of his stuff weren’t heavy, but Max’s arms seemed to be intentionally flexing as if he were trying to show off. As they made their way across the campus, Alan stole glances at Max’s towering form, marveling at his sheer size. Everything about the young man was massive, and the tight-fitting clothes didn’t leave anything to the imagination, making Alan feel tiny next to another man for the first time in a very long time.

“Do you have any more classes today?” Alan asked as they approached his car.

“No, yours was my only class of the day. Since I’m transferring from another college, some documents went missing, and my schedule isn’t ready yet,” Max said, bouncing his massive pecs without reason to impress his professor.

“Uh, would you like to join me for lunch? I know a wonderful little place nearby. We can discuss your questions about the homework during lunch,” Alan said, and Max’s face lit up with excitement.

“I’d love to, Professor Reynolds,” Max replied eagerly, placing Alan’s textbooks in the back seat.

Then, both men climbed up in Alan’s car, which didn’t feel as big as before, with Max’s enormous body taking up a lot of space at the front. Laughter filled the short drive to the nearby café as Max struggled to get comfortable in the passenger seat without bumping Alan with his bulging shoulders. This struggle made Alan feel a strange attraction to his new student, which he tried to resist because he knew it was wrong on so many levels. However, the more time he was next to Max, the more the attraction grew.

“So, Max,” Alan began as they walked into the bustling café, “tell me more about yourself. I’m intrigued about what led to this interest in male pregnancy?”

Max grinned, his eyes excitedly shining as they settled into a corner of the café. “I’ve always been fascinated by the human body. My dad is a surgeon, and my mom is an OB-GYN. Growing up, medical textbooks and anatomy charts were everywhere. That definitely sparked something inside me, but… how do I say this without embarrassing myself?” Max blushed and paused for a second. “I used to look at kink forums about male pregnancy, and now I think it’s really cool.”

Alan stared at Max’s handsome face in a deep trance as the young man spoke. There was something about the large new student that made Alan feel strange. Max’s words about his ‘research’ on male pregnancy, based on kinks and non-scientific information, made Alan feel drawn into the narrative, blurring his rational thoughts. Then, as Max described his physical reaction to the idea of a man getting pregnant, Alan couldn’t help but imagine the big man getting all worked up while looking at a man with a big belly.

“And, you know, Professor Reynolds, I’m pretty… well endowed, so when I started seeing more and more pics and even videos related to mpreg, I mean, male pregnancy, it got me into some trouble because I couldn’t hide it, you know what I mean?” Max said, but Alan’s mind had only registered until the part when Max mentioned he was well endowed. “And I realized I needed to study this from a scientific point of view.”

“Oh… okay. As an Anatomy professor, I can only tell you that males can’t get pregnant. It’s impossible,” Alan said as their lunch arrived. “But, I have to admit that I’ve never seen someone as big as you, and that’s unusual from a scientific point of view,” Alan added, and Max responded with a broad smile.

“Thanks, Professor Reynolds,” Max replied, his voice tinged with modesty. “I really appreciate the compliment, especially coming from a hot man like you,” Max added, making Alan blush.

Alan didn’t know how to respond to Max’s words, so they stayed silent while they ate their lunch, only looking into each other’s eyes. Both felt like they were talking in a language that didn’t need words. Alan tried to act cool in Max’s company, but the young man seemed to have decided to impress Alan by flexing his muscles. Alan was confused because he had never felt attracted to a man before, but Max had something special that didn’t allow him to think clearly.

Alan paid for their lunch when they had finished it, and Max quickly stood up to stretch before Alan’s eyes. Then, a loud ripping sound echoed in the café and Alan noticed Max’s tight-fitting T-shirt opening in the middle at the front around his massive pecs, leaving the cleft of his chest exposed.

“Oh, crap. I’m sorry about that. It happens more often than I’d like to admit. I need bigger clothes,” Max said, playfully bouncing his pecs and making Alan gasp in awe. “It was great having lunch with you, but I guess I gotta go home before the rest of my clothes turn into shreds; believe me, it has happened before.”

“Wait, I… I’ll drive you home,” Alan said without thinking. “I mean, you can’t walk down the streets with your chest exposed. Let’s go. Tell me where I can drop you off, and I’ll drive you there.” Alan started walking toward the front door, with Max right behind him.

“Thanks, Professor Reynolds. Actually, maybe if you have some time, I can show you some information about male pregnancy. My apartment is not far from here, so it won’t take you long,” Max said as they approached Alan’s car. “I’m sure you’ll love to see what I got.”

“Uh, I guess I have some time,” Alan said, looking at his watch to see the hour.

Suddenly, Max stood right behind Alan, with his big bulge tightly pressed against Alan’s big bubble butt and his muscular pectorals pushing against the professor’s back. Alan’s body shivered in surprise, and his breath grew shallow. The physical contact with Max’s bulge made Alan lose the rational thoughts he still had, letting a raw desire take over his mind.

“Maybe we can study human anatomy more closely,” Max whispered into Alan’s ear, making the professor shiver violently. “With all respect, Professor Reynolds, you’re the hottest man I’ve ever met, and from the second you entered the classroom, I couldn’t take my eyes off this huge ass,” Max said, making sure nobody was looking their way before reaching for Alan’s ass to grab it firmly.

“This is so inappropriate. I’m married, I have kids, and I’m your professor,” Alan said, but Max’s dick stirred to life inside his pants, making Alan feel its bigness and causing a soft moan to escape his lips.

“Let’s say I need private anatomy lessons, and you know you want this as much as I do,” Max said, leaving Alan without arguments. With Max’s chubbed-up dick nestled between Alan’s asscheeks, the professor couldn’t resist his desire to feel his massive student’s body more closely anymore.

...

[superprincesspea]

Courted by the Dragon

Chapter 6 - Total Annihilation

Aemond Targaryen is both the cause and witness to the greatest humiliation of your life. You would rather die than see him again. Yet summer at court and the precipice of civil war have other ideas.

Masterlist

~~~

You meet with the queen every day for the next three days.

Her favourite Cyvasse board is in her private garden, under a white stone arbour which is covered in burgundy roses, and that is precisely where you are sitting when the hunt returns. 

You can hear the fanfare announcing their arrival all the way from the bronze gates, and the noise must be ear splitting to those closest to it, but you’re far enough away to enjoy the tune, thinking how fun it would be to have your arrival marked with such ceremony.

You stand, expecting the queen to do the same but she remains.  

“We should continue our game,” she says, in no hurry to rush and welcome the men back to court.  

"Will they not expect you?” 

“Of course. But we cannot always give men what they expect,” she replies a little wickedly and you laugh, returning to your seat.

When Aemond arrives in the garden sometime later, he struts into the arbour in his usual arrogant manner. His dark outline looking decidedly stark against all the white stone and delicate flowers.

Stupidly, it hadn’t even occurred to you that he might come to the queen like this, and you curse yourself for not leaving when you had the chance.

Your only saving grace is that he doesn’t seem to notice you, his attention is entirely focused on his mother and, with your red gown, you’re trying your best to blend in with the roses.  

“Welcome back,” she says cheerfully, holding out her hand.

Aemond bows, offering a soft smile and a light kiss across the back of her knuckles. 

“Did Aegon kill the stag?” she asks, and a conspiratory look flashes between their eyes. 

“Naturally ,” he replies, and you don’t have to ask to know that Aemond did everything but take the killing blow.  

You wonder if you would be so kind to Cassandra, doing all in your power to make her look like the better sister, then again, there’s little you do which outshines her.  

She is tall and graceful with impeccable manners and so many accomplishments. She can sew, sing and play any instrument she turns her hand to. In fact, Cassandra would basically be perfect if she wasn’t so shy, not that shyness really mattered here. Most men in Kings Landing seemed to prefer a woman who had little to say, and you could never be accused of that.  

Still, you don’t really want to say much right now and you’re wondering if you can somehow sneak away. Yet before you formulate any sort of a half-hatched idea, Aemond’s attention turns to you. His smile quickly receding and, from the look in his eye, he seems surprised indeed to see you sitting in such private company with his mother.

You have to admit, you’d silently wondered if it was Aemond who had somehow orchestrated your friendship with her. Though you were not sure to what end.  

However, from his furrowed brow and the tight line of his jaw, you can see that it was certainly not his idea. Nor is he pleased to see you.  

“You know the Lady Baratheon,” Alicent says, gesturing to you. 

"We may have spoken once or twice.” 

You meet his eye. Once or twice. An interesting answer for a man who has seen you nude, but you welcome his restraint wholeheartedly.  

“Well , are you going to make your move or not?” Alicent asks and your eyes snap back to hers, then to the Cyvasse piece hovering in your hand. 

You place it down and Aemond moves to stand behind his mother, so he can see the board from her angle.  

"She’ll kill your king in three turns,” he says quickly, as though he’s been studying the game for a while, yet he’s only given it a moments glance. 

Alicent’s eyes dart around the board. 

“He’s right,” she admits, meeting your stare, “you’re getting better.” 

"Your Grace is an excellent teacher.” 

"Then you should play Aemond,” she says with so much pride, craning her head to look adoringly at her son. 

“Perhaps another time,” you reply a little curtly and with far less enthusiasm than she’s expecting.  

A well born lady should say ‘yes, of course, I would love to play with the prince’.  But you’d rather spend an entire afternoon embroidering cornflowers than say something like that. 

“It won’t take long,” Aemond decides with so much confidence that the queen gasps. 

Perhaps his arrogance should have stood as a warning, but it only seems to bait you into doing exactly what you didn’t want to do. Play .  

Biting your tongue to keep yourself from saying anything inflammatory, you move the pieces back into their starting position while Aemond swaps places with the queen.  

It's your move first and you play your favourite opening, one you have won with a few times before. And you’re feeling quietly confident for at least two whole seconds, before Aemond makes his turn, bringing his dragon right out into the middle of the board.  

Your heart jumps, confused, yet you play on, sticking to your original strategy and wanting to force him into a game you can recognise.  

Yet Aemond has a strategy of his own. Total annihilation. He steals your dragon with his second move, and you stare at the board a little blankly, feeling as though your legs have been swept from under your feet. 

The next two turns are the same. Fast and aggressive, forcing you to play more defensively than you’re used to and giving you little time to think. At least it feels like you don’t have much time.  

In reality, you have all the time in the world. What you don't have, is a shield from the way he’s looking at you. Or rather, studying you. Face to face and so close his leg brushes with yours beneath the table.  

You hold your breath, shifting away from him, your hand dallying between two pieces.  

You decide on the Heavy Horse and, just as you’re about to pick it up, he leans closer, catching your eye.  

“Interesting choice .”  

What does that mean? Your heart drums in your chest, your palms suddenly slick with nerves. Should you change your move? Or is he trying to trick you?  

Deciding to not let Aemond get too far into your head, you move the Heavy Horse and immediately regret your choice. But how are you supposed to think under such circumstances?  

With his leg brushing against yours for a second time, his eye grazing along your face, your neck, the soft v of your dress and right down to the tips of your fingers.  

The queen never looked at you like that , nor did her leg ever brush with yours. 

You meet his eye with as stern expression, but Aemond isn’t unsettled by stern looks, there is a dark smile pursed on his lips, and he seems to take great pleasure in stealing another piece, just as he is stealing all logical thought from your head.  

You sigh sharply, frustration clawing at your skin and, though he has seen you naked, this somehow feels worse. As though your very intellect is bare before him and he’s besting you at every turn. The most unpleasant part is, you can see yourself falling into the trap he’s setting, but it feels unstoppable, inevitable .  

Is this what it is like to spar with him? Does he look at his opponents with the same intensity, so they forget not only how to fight, but how to move altogether.  

If the queen wasn’t watching, you would walk away and never look back. Instead, your heart still racing, you move again, and again you regret it.  

He claims your Trebuchet and then your Light Horse.  

You meet his eye, and his face is the same, dark and satisfied. 

You decide right then, that if nothing else, you will take his Dragon and you do, sacrificing everything to claim it, right before he kills your King.  

You’ve lost track of how many turns it's been, but it can't have been many. Ten? Twelve? It felt like a hundred, yet it was certainly the shortest game you’ve ever played. 

“You are cruel,” Alicent scolds him, laughing softly at your expense, and you try to join her. Try to pretend it doesn’t matter that he won so easily. But it does.  

Why did he have to be so good at everything?  

Why does he always seem to have the upper hand?  

“You’ve spent too much time playing with my mother,” he says as though you care for his opinion. "You need to learn other styles, be more unpredictable.” 

"Then perhaps you should teach her,” Alicent suggests, and your heart stops just as Aemond snorts out a laugh of derision. 

“What makes you think I would want to do that ?” 

His words are so clipped and infuriatingly rude that your temper forces you to your feet, yet you remain in control of your tongue. 

The Queen doesn’t reply, she smiles, giving you both one last long look before she walks away. 

When she is gone, Aemond meets the stare you have been burning into the side of his face. 

You really shouldn’t let him annoy you as much as he does, but you can’t help it, your reactions feel completely out of your control, just like the game.  

“Did you ask her to say that ?” he says, and his tone is not exactly angry, but his eye is narrowed, as though you’ve done something wrong. 

“Ask her to say what ?” 

“For me to teach you.” 

You laugh, wondering if the question is a serious one. Wondering if he truly believes you’ve spent the last few days coaxing the Queen to force you into his attention.  

Is he completely insane?  

“Your Grace must have a very high opinion of himself if he imagines every lady in the Red Keep is begging for his company!” Maybe that was true for some of the others, but it certainly wasn’t for you.  

“So, you just happened to be here playing with my mother?” 

You huff, pushing the chair back so you can stand where there is more room for your temper, “how was I supposed to know the hunt would return today? And she invited me !” 

“Why?” 

“Why not?” you practically demand and, when he doesn’t answer, you continue. “Your grace should be rest assured that I would rather eat glass than spend another moment in his company.” 

Such harsh words should certainly not be exiting your mouth, and they should definitely be making him angrier. But the look in his eye only softens as he moves to stand beside you, a little too close for enemies.  

“Will you attend the concert tonight?” he asks, his tone much kinder than before but not kind enough to ease your temper.  

“Is that an invite ?” you say tartly. 

A smile escapes onto his face and, for once, he looks as though he’s not sure what to say.  

“My mother...” he begins, clearing his throat, “is not always as discerning as I, when it comes to... the ladies of court.” 

This seems a difficult truth for him to admit, but you have no sympathy, and laugh, pleased to imagine him pursued by desperate ladies and their Mama’s.  

“Perhaps she believes you need all the help you can get?”  

He huffs out a noise which almost sounds like a laugh, yet the dangerous look in his eye is anything but amused as he shifts closer, pinning you between the Cyvasse board and the inch of space which snakes between your bodies.  

“You think I don’t know how to seduce a woman?” he asks in a low voice, inclining his head as though he might brush his lips with yours. Yet he stops short of kissing, so only his breath inches across your lips, and you can almost taste him. Sweet, rich, like mead or honey cake.  

Your heart is stuttering as you lean back, practically sitting on the board, your gaze only daring to fix on his chest, where the Targaryen Sigil is emblazoned in black and gold.  

“Lucky for his grace, I believe your name will do all the seducing for you...” you say a little meekly before forcing yourself to meet his eye, “even if your manner might make a lady want to hurl herself from the highest tower of the keep.” 

His face, which had been so tight with tension, softens and he laughs taking pleasure in your criticism instead of offence. “But my name does not seduce the enigmatic Lady Baratheon?” 

“Should it?” you ask, instantly regretting the question. 

Aemond steps back thoughtfully, allowing you a little more room to breathe, though it doesn’t feel like enough.  

“I can think of nothing worse,” he says, and you feel a little bolder.  

“Then you will be pleased to know I dislike you, name and all.” 

When he smiles again, you think it might be quite impossible to offend an ego as large as the one he must have, and you know you should leave before making any more attempts. 

“So, which one is it?” he says, keeping in time with your steps as you move towards the door which leads from the garden. “Does my company make you want to eat glass or hurl yourself from the tower?” 

“Well ,” you faulter, laughing nervously and thinking you really should keep a better handle on your remarks. Cassandra would never say such a thing. “Since I shall be leaving court in less than two weeks, and I have no intention of ever returning. I believe I shall be forced to do neither.” 

“I am glad to hear it,” he concedes as you both wait for the guard to open the door. 

When you step through it, he remains in the garden but calls after you, “you didn’t answer my first question...” 

You turn back. “About the concert?”  

Aemond nods and the way he’s standing is so relaxed, his hand resting casually on the pommel of his sword, his foot braced on the stone step. It's as though you haven’t spent the past ten minutes telling him just how much you cannot bare him. 

“Hm ,” you say, as though you’re pondering a decision, when you already know that you have zero intention of attending the concert, just as you have zero intention of giving him a straight answer.  

Instead, you turn back towards the hall, leaving him to wonder and, though you really want to leave without looking back, you can’t resist one last glance.  

He’s still standing in the same way, watching your retreat, a slightly devilish smile inching into his cheeks at the return of your attention.  

You curse yourself. Stupid . You should have never looked back! 

[mariacallous]

As with many a lame-duck president in the past, it feels as if Joe Biden has already left the national stage even though he has a month left in his term.

In his case, that disappearing act is vastly exaggerated by the man who was his predecessor and will be his successor. Donald Trump sucks up every bit of oxygen in the room with his daily outrages – horrifying cabinet choices, transactional friendships with oligarchs, appalling social media posts.

With all the lack of grace we’ve come to expect, he is threatening and bragging his way to inauguration day.

Biden, by contrast, is mostly low-key and taciturn.

One of Barack Obama’s former aides, Jon Lovett, took a sarcastic jab on the Pod Save America podcast: “Joe Biden believes in tradition and institutions, and we should only have one president at a time, and I think it’s a surprising choice to allow it to be Donald Trump.”

Some major news organizations are giving Biden an extra shove into the wings with coverage that emphasizes what we already know: that Biden, at 82, is old and less than vibrant.

A Weary Biden Heads for the Exit, read a headline in the New York Times, with observations, in the newspaper’s own voice, that Biden “looks a little older and a little slower with each passing day”, and that “it is hard to imagine that he seriously thought he could do the world’s most stressful job for another four years.”

The Wall Street Journal reprised its once disparaged and now praised coverage from last spring about the president’s increasing frailty with a story about how staff shored him up and distracted the public and the press: “Aides kept meetings short and controlled access, top advisers acted as go-betweens and public interactions became more scripted.”

But even in this diminished state, and even amid low approval ratings and endless criticism, Biden remains himself to a large extent: decent, optimistic, patriotic and empathetic.

In an extensive video interview published recently by the progressive, independent media organization MeidasTouch Network, Biden sounded cogent and thoughtful as he answered questions from founder Ben Meiselas.

Granted, the interview was non-combative; rather, it was notably tactful and respectful. But it was also substantive, and Biden sounded the familiar notes as he pledged to attend next month’s inauguration and explained why he invited Trump to the White House, despite having often depicted him as a threat to democracy.

“Because it’s who we are as a nation, it’s how we’re supposed to be … ” he said about the peaceful transfer of power. He emphasized his belief in the American people and joked about being what he called “congenitally optimistic”.

I’m not sure I share those rosy views, given the outcome of the election and the way things are unfolding day after day. But that’s vintage Biden.

And as I watched and listened to him answering Meiselas’s questions, I somehow felt nostalgic – yes, nostalgic for a presidency that hasn’t even ended, though it is fading fast.

I couldn’t help but think that – despite all Biden’s well-documented faults and misjudgments (including failing to step away much earlier from the presidential campaign) – this president has done a lot right.

His accomplishments are real, and his decency as a human being is, too.

Some of us, at least, are going to miss him when he’s gone. Even if it seems like that has already happened.

[tulipsforyourlips]

✧˖°. i found you ✧˖°. (4)

|| the sandman x dead boy detectives ||

SUMMARY: You run the dead boys detective agency along with your two best friends. And somehow two ghosts and a living girl make it work. Until you dream one night, of dream himself.

PAIRING: dream of the endless x fem!reader

WC: 3K

WARNINGS: none I can think of

PART 4✧˖°.

"So let me get this straight, ghosts cannot lie to you yet you work with two ghosts who apparently can," Matthew cawed from his place on your shoulder where you were huddled in one corner of the Dreaming library. 

Earlier that day, Dream had intercepted your walk to the bakery nearby your apartment, almost giving you a jump scare, and then brought you back here with him once you'd pleaded to let your ghost friends know you were going out. Since it was a weekend and the agency remained closed, they didn't question you. Although Charles did tease you about a date. If only.  

"Yep that pretty much sums it up. But it's not out of compulsion, it's that ghosts trust me, it's like they have no other option than to trust me. I don't know how it works seriously, just that it has helped a hell lot of ghosts successfully cross over and boom our business. And as far as Edwin and Charles are concerned, well my powers, if you could call it that, did happen after meeting the guys. So," you shrugged.

"Interesting," Matthew mulled over your words, "and this has been going for the past.."

"4 years.”

"And you remember nothing before that? No family, no one from your past?" 

An all so ever familiar brush of sadness tingled every bone in your body. "No," you exhaled. 

"I am sorry.”

"Eh I am used to it now. Besides I love my life with the boys. I did search for any signs of my family, if I had one and then just gave up after a year. The boys are my family now." 

"Include me in too.”

You laughed at Matthew’s response. "Of course you are my precious little raven." 

"My lady," Lucienne's voice greeted you, "he’s ready.”

While you were away, Morpheus had tried to repair the damage only for a fresh bout of earthquakes to replace the previous destruction. Now you made your way to where he stood crafting dreams or nightmares. 

"Mortal," he said in greeting, his back turned to you. 

"Dream.”

He moved aside and your breath got caught in your throat. Staring at you, was a half human, half monster who had a tongue of a reptile and teeth like razors. The stuff of literal nightmares.  

"Make him trust you," Dream spoke.

"Are you crazy?" You looked at him as if someone had cracked his skull open and was gorging on his brains and someone might have with what he was suggesting. 

"You dare-?" 

Yes you fucking dared. What was he expecting you to do, commit suicide? 

But he was after all an Endless, and you did not wish to invoke his wrath so you only mumbled, "I can't do this, you can't expect me to get a nightmare to trust me! It's unreal!" 

"But ghosts trust you.”

"Yes because they are ghosts and he is, well a bloody nightmare.”

"Try.”

"And who's guaranteeing that I won't die trying?”

"I am.” His words were solid pebbles dropping in your guts. 

You don't know what made you take the next step, maybe it was the conviction in his voice, but you stretched your arms forward and warily tried to approach the monster human. You took baby steps towards him, just a few more, you assured yourself but then the nightmare lunged straight for you. You tripped backward and the sandy ground contacted your back. But before the nightmare could contact you, Dream raised his hand and the nightmare vanished into darkness, flecks of what he once used to be gracing the ground in front of you. You got up on your feet, the image of razor teeth inches away from your face still imprinted in your mind. 

"I am sorry Dream I can't do this." 

"What?” A frown displayed on his face. “But I ensured no harm came to you.”

"Dream I was saved from becoming nightmare food by a mere second!" 

"I would not have let any harm befall you." His eyes sook yours trying to convey the determination behind his words. 

Your face softened. You wanted to believe him. You really did. But how could you trust his creations when you did not trust the creator himself.  

"And I am just supposed to believe you?" 

"Morta-"

"You know I have a name. If you want me to help you, the least you can do is stop perceiving me as a fly in your path and call me by my name!" you snapped. 

Dream was silent. 

"Get me out of here.”

You half expected him to deny your request but sand began swirling around you, and the next moment you were teleported back to the waking world. Had he so easily given up on you? Good riddance. 

When you pushed the door to the apartment open, the guys were huddled together on the couch, watching television. 

"Hey! how was your date?" Charles asked, his gaze fixed on the television. 

"Terrible," you murmured and slammed the door to your bedroom behind you. 

The king of Dreams sat on his throne, gazing at the universe contained in his ceiling, when he felt you enter the Dreaming. He always did. He entered the mountain clearing, your lone figure was sprawled on the grass in the distance beneath the starry sky. Before his brain could object, he started towards you.

You must have felt his presence because you bolted upright when he neared you, “Dream,”

His name felt so weightless on your tongue, he wanted to hear it again and again. You on the other hand didn’t know why you were so surprised to see him here, it was his realm after all.

“I told you I am not-"

“Relax Hazel, I am not here to impart any lessons to you.”

Hazel

“So why are you here?”

He opened his mouth and closed it, no answer left him. Had you just seen the Dream Lord hesitate? You patched the grass beside you, an invitation for truce. Tentatively, he sat down, his cloak spooling around him. It was an odd sight, seeing the Dream Lord on the ground beside you, instead of his ceremonious throne.

“Did you create this?” You asked.

“Partially, I had help.”

“I thought only you had the power to create dreams and nightmares.” Your time in the library had been well spent.

“It is true, but the vision can always belong to someone else. His voice was soft, words floating into the winds.

You imagined someone having the vision for this, for this phenomenal beauty you were sitting in and you thanked them.

“It’s beautiful.” Your voice came like a whisper.

Morpheus looked at you. “It is.”

You both sat in silence, gazing at the stars twinkling above you.

Dream’s voice penetrated the quiet. “Mort-Hazel, I never mean to belittle you. And believe it or not, I am grateful to you for your help. But you have to understand that-”

“Then make me understand.” You repeated your words from your first visit to the Dreaming.

Morpheus sighed before the low baritone of his voice reached you. “You know there are seven of us. There is Death, Destiny, Desire, Delirium, Despair, Destruction and I. And it is our purpose to ensure the smooth running of humankind. We have been here since the beginning of time itself and will be here when the last soul departs the Earth-” You had already read all this in the library but let him go on “-but along us siblings, there was,” he paused.

You thought it was for dramatic effect but when he didn’t continue, you called to him, “Dream?”

He inhaled sharply, “Hope.” The word left his mouth in a breathy exhale.  “There was Hope, and she held together what you could call the fabric of humanity.”

“Where is she now?” You asked.

Dream looked at you for some time and answered, his voice a whisper, “dead.”

The hurt in his voice took you off guard. 

“I am sorry.”

Silence engulfed the both of you again.

“Is that the reason behind the earthquakes?”

“Hope and Dream are co-dependent. Neither can exist without the other. We thought, we hoped that the future could withstand the loss of hope, but the inhabitants of the Dreaming grow weak without her pulse and the realm itself is failing.”

“And if it does, so will humanity.” Your words sunk in you.

“Because what are humans, rather any of us, without dreams and hope?” He looked at you.

“And that is why you need me, to instill trust in the dreams and nightmares so that they don’t stray from their purpose to serve humanity,” everything clicked, "Dream I had no idea-“

“It wasn’t your fault,” he stated. “But now since you know how imperative it is for the dreams and nightmares to learn to trust, the shadow of hope, will you help me,” his eyes held yours and there was a delicate plea seeping into his gravelly voice, “save the world?”

“Yes.”

You rested your head against Edwin's torso as you flipped through the mail you were holding. He was propped against the back of the wall as he went through a thick volume of ghost fungi or something. You couldn't care less. The past week had been tiring, an understatement of course. Your every organ was tired, despite sleeping for 10 hours a day. But it wasn't like you were sleeping, Morpheus and you trained every night in the Dreaming, and your grueling efforts had reaped no fruit yet. And during the days, the agency's work took a toll on you. The only respite from your exhausting and rigorous routine was the hour just before dawn, when you'd sit with Dream in your little bubble and gaze at the stars together. You'd begun looking forward to it every day, you had realised with reluctance. 

"Aha! This seems interesting.” You held out a paper in your hand, grabbing the attention of both the boys. 

Charles tilted his head from his position on the table to read the print on the paper. "A demon possession, brills!" 

"So your believe you are possessed by a demon?" Edwin scribbled notes in his notepad. 

"Yes.” The girl's voice was hoarse with crying. 

"And what makes you believe that?" 

"I-I wake up in strange places which I have no memory of traveling to, and there are voices inside my head-”

"Yeah, welcome to being alive duh," you snorted. 

Shit you had said that aloud. 

Charles gave you a rebuking look. 

"Sorry," you muttered. 

"The voices inside my head, they are too loud. He makes me do things I would never do," the girl continued.

"Can you..feel him right now?" 

"No,” she shook her head, “he surfaces only occasionally," she sniffed. 

"Hey." Charles held the girl by her shoulders. "Don't worry, you will be okay. We will get him out, we promise.”

Oh no, there was only one rule. You never ever promised a client. You look up expecting to see Edwin's dismal expression but only find a thin veil of envy coating his features. Oh boy. 

You were just beginning to tease him when you caught the unmistakable unruly hair of the King of Dreams to your right in the distance. 

"Uh guys, I will be right back," you told the group, "really need to pee."

God you needed to work on your excuses. 

"What are you doing here?" You hissed when you neared him. 

Matthew cawed on his shoulder. 

"Pleased to meet you too Hazel.”

"I thought we had a deal, no training during daytime.”

"It's not I but Lucienne who seeks you. She needs your help with the library.”

"Oh?” Spending an entire day in the library of dreams? Sign me up. “Well then I could make an exception for her,” you hummed. 

“Of course, it doesn’t assist any fascination of yours,” he mocked. 

“Did you just attempt sarcasm? They grow up so fast.” You wiped false tears.

“Come now-”

“I need to tell the boys first, and don’t-don’t do that whirlpool thing here,” you looked around, “there are witnesses. Meet me at the-”

Before you could finish, he dissolved into nothingness. Great. 

“Were you um talking to yourself?” Edwin’s voice spooked you. 

You whirled around. “Yeah, just normal sane things.” You added hurriedly, “what’s with the girl?” 

Edwin’s expression changed into annoyance at her mention. “Charles insists on taking her back to the apartment to-“ he drew quotation marks in the air, “-monitor her in hopes of expelling the demon out of her body.”

“Well all the best with that.”

“What do you mean? You aren’t coming back with us?” 

“I just think that since she’s not a ghost and I don’t have any leverage over her, I might pursue other activities today.”

“Like the date?” Edwin frowned.

“No-Yes,” you sighed, giving up. 

“Uh alright have fun. See you tonight.” 

“You too.” 

You were propped up in Lucienne’s chair, combing through yet another volume of the history of the universe. The sheer rarity of this knowledge baffled you. You hadn’t seen Morpheus since he had apparated the both of you in the library. Turns out, Lucienne had been rearranging vast sections of the library today and even though she didn’t exactly need your help with that, she welcomed an eager friend and her joyful company. After hours of studying her intricate filing system and aiding her in that, your tired self now sat a few feet away from where she stacked the remnant books in their allotted places. You simply were in awe of that woman. Matthew chirped from your shoulder, he had seemed to make a home there. Eyes drooping with exhaustion, you slammed the book shut. Should you ask them? It’s now or never right?

“Who was Hope?” 

Lucienne froze in her movements, and Matthew stopped chirping. A feather could be heard dropped in the quiet that you had unknowingly compelled the room into. 

The librarian answered after what felt like hours, “it isn’t our place to say, my lady.” 

You nodded, a part of you had already known her answer. 

“Hazel please Lucienne.”

”Sorry my la- Hazel.”

Jesse, you had learned was the name of the possessed girl, giggled at an extremely, extremely horrid joke of Charles. 

“I don’t understand. That wasn’t funny,” Edwin said. 

Man he really needed to learn to conceal his jealousy better. 

“You and me both buddy,” you said more to yourself. 

“It’s alright mate, it isn’t exactly Victorian humour,” Charles said in between laughs. 

Charles and Jesse were clustered together on the couch, being unnecessarily touchy. Edwin was viewing them with a bitter scowl. 

You nudged him in the ribs lightly, “Someone is jealous.”

“Please, like she is someone a human or ghost could get jealous over.” 

Was he seriously that utterly daft?

“Eds I meant Charles,” you said it in a ‘duh that’s so obvious’ tone. 

“What?” He got immediately defensive. “Charles is my best friend, and nothing more. Nor do I wish him to be,” he jutted his chin out.

“Ok liar, pants on fire,” you squinted at him. 

“Hazel I don’t know how to prove that to you.”

You tittered, “prove it to yourself, love.” 

Edwin sat in deliberate consideration for a while. You glanced at the time, 9:00 pm, you were so tired but the day was young even though the moon was out. A part of you just wanted to escape your destiny and blah blah, but the part that was slowly growing attached to Dream didn't let you do so.

“Hazel?” Charles’ voice pulled you back. 

“Uh yeah,” 

“So tell her about it.”

“About what?” 

“About the case of the sea monster we solved a while back," he said with annoyance, "were you not listening to me?”

“Uh uh. No can do.” You got up, brushing imaginary flecks of dust from your pants. “Anyways lads, I am going to disintegrate myself into my beloved bed now where my beloved sleep awaits me.”

“Who are you and what have you done to my Hazel?” Charles pointed his fingers at you. 

“What?” You laughed. 

“Mate you have been going to bed at 9 pm for more than a week now, you, the one who put the sleep schedule of owls to shame.”

“Yeah I don’t know man I just feel super tired recently.”

“Everything's aces right?” Charles’ voice was concerned. 

“You just seem a lot distant lately,” Edwin added. 

“I do?” Genuine shock seeped into your tone. You needed to cover your tracks better. You fucking hated keeping things from them. Jesse looked curiously at you. 

“Yep boys everything's aces, it’s just called being in your 20's right?” You tried to lighten the atmosphere with a joke. 

They didn’t even seem half convinced but didn’t interfere further as you entered your room and subsequently the land of Dreams. 

The river babbled as it shimmered under the stars. Morpheus and you sat together after another training session. You were getting closer, both you and him were sensing it. You turned your head towards him, his dark eyes held the entire cosmos in them, and his cloak blended into the surroundings. Here in the dark, under the cover of the night, he almost felt like an extension of darkness itself. His hair was wild like always, falling on his forehead, and you had the sudden urge to glide your fingers through them and tuck them back. Embarrassing. 

“Do you wish to say something, mortal?” 

This time the mortal wasn’t used as a deriding remark, rather it had now become a term of endearment between you two. 

“Did you love her?” The question escaped you. 

Morpheus was silent. “Love who?” 

“Hope,” you said, her name on your tongue a weird sensation. 

He didn’t answer. But that was answer enough for you. Dream in love? The literal king of Dreams was capable of experiencing an emotion as tender as love? A pang of something hit your insides. Jealousy? No, can’t be. No way in hell you were falling for an Endless, least of all him. 

Time laughed somewhere in the universe. 

SERIES MASTERLIST✧˖°.

[aziraphales-library]

Hey :) thanks for all you do for the fandom!

I was wondering, can you recommend any good (canon-verse) fics that have Crowley and/or Aziraphale being temporarily human or loosing their powers (and having to deal with what that entails)? I'm asking specifically for temporarily because I've found plenty that have them turn human for good but somehow couldn't figure out a way to search for ones where it's temporary.

Thank you already and I hope you have a lovely day!

We have a #turned human tag, and some of the summaries specify "temporarily", so look for those. There's not really a way to search for fics where there's not permanently human, other than skipping to the end to check. So that's what I spent ages doing...

Damned to Humanity by Justanothernerdsstuff (T)

“I thought,” Aziraphale said, his smile starting to shift. “That I was already excused from heavenly duties. Seeing how my last visit upstairs went,” He noted, silently thanking Crowley for stepping into that fire for him. “You were. But this,” He flicked the card towards Aziraphale and it swayed through the air until it rested at his feet. “Is much more than being excused. You’ve fallen,” Gabriel clarified. *** Aziraphale falls, but Hell doesn't want him any more than Heaven does. As a result, he is turned human. Trigger warning: the possibility of death is briefly mentioned.

human nature by attheborder (T)

When you’re talking about bodies locked in orbit, forever circling each other, it takes two to tango. Forces opposed; action and reaction. One, and the other.  But the blank-slate version of Aziraphale sleeping beside Crowley in this cold little bed had no fear of Heaven, no fear of Falling. Not even a fear of snakes. He only had, as all humans did, the knowledge of good and bad, and the ability to make a choice. *** Crowley must turn Aziraphale human in order to hide him from Heaven. (Inspired by/fusion with Doctor Who’s Human Nature/Family of Blood arc)

Human Incarnate by nikkiRA (M)

“They think I’m immune to demon fire, see,” Aziraphale said, in a slightly airy voice. “So they had to… get creative.” “Aziraphale, what. Did. They. Do?” “Can’t you tell?” Aziraphale gave a little laugh. This must be what shock felt like. “Can’t you sense it?” He grabbed Crowley’s hand and pressed it to his chest, so the demon could feel his rapidly beating, very human heart. “I’m a human now, my dear. Very, very mortal.” Aziraphale is punished. Crowley refuses to accept it. Shenanigans, feelings, and plots ensue.

It's Not the Fall (It's the Landing) by Ginger_Cat (E)

To save each other from Heaven and Hell, Aziraphale and Crowley become human. Things, predictably, do not go as planned. Crowley thought about what he’d come there to do. He thought about what it meant, in the context of God’s warning. Really thought. There wouldn’t be hopping from restaurant to restaurant with his best friend for the next six thousand years (give or take). There wouldn’t be any more miracles, or tempting. There wouldn’t be any skirting Hell’s wrath for eternity. And when it was over, the deepest, darkest, horriblest pits would be reserved for him. Crowley said, “Will you make me human, too?”

The Human Dilemma by theshoparoundthecorner (G)

“That’s not possible. How could my eyes just change overnight?” Crowley snapped his fingers. The mirror remained stubbornly shattered. He looked up at Aziraphale, face pale. Aziraphale took a step forward. “Like I said, I think something’s happened.” “What’s going on? Why isn’t it working?” Crowley snapped his fingers again, his agitation growing. Aziraphale placed a hand on his shoulder. “Crowley, let’s leave the mirror be for now and talk this over. I’ll make us some tea, or coffee, or whatever you’d like. I just don’t think it’s a good idea to for either of us be around broken glass at the moment.” Crowley nodded, taking Aziraphale’s hand and stepping over the shards to safety. Aziraphale could feel his hand shaking in his. “Crowley,” he said, “I need you to take a deep breath.” “Why? I don’t need to breathe.” “Yes, I rather think you do. I think we both do.” “Angel, what is going on?” Aziraphale reached forward and placed a hand on Crowley’s chest, feeling a strong heartbeat racing beneath it. Crowley reached forward and did the same. “Crowley,” Aziraphale said after a moment, afraid to speak the truth into being, “I think we may be human.”

And because I know someone will mention it if I don't...

Pray For Us, Icarus by Atalan (Series) (G-T)

For three centuries, Crowley has been reincarnated over and over as a human with no memory of his past. Aziraphale has tried to find a way to restore him to his true self, but all he seems to do is hurt them both. This time, he only means to steal a brief moment when he walks into Crowley's flower shop. But Crowley can't let it go...

- Mod D

[beigetiger]

Guys I’m SO normal about the Dead Men, trust me bro

We have Ghastly, the kind one, always being taken advantage of and having to give up so much just to deal with Skulduggery in the war. He tried his best to prevent Valkyrie from being a child soldier, failed, and then decided to do his best in raising her.

We have Dexter, who has lost EVERYTHING over and over and over and has been manipulated and lied to by almost everyone he knows without ever having taken advantage of his friends himself. He has had so many people he loved die before his very eyes and he had his throat torn out and then stitched back together and somehow he hasn’t just killed himself to get it over with. In fact, he’s literally the only Dead Man who’s never actually died.

And of course there’s Saracen, the only Dead Man without a violence-based discipline and who was so ashamed of his power that he hid it for literal hundreds of years and only revealed it to save his relationship with Dexter. He’s considered small and weak but he managed to survive the entire war by fighting his way out the old fashioned way and there’s a very good chance the reason he ended up in the war camps was partially caused by him killing all his siblings.

And there’s Anton, who’s considered big and scary because he’s tall, goth, and quiet but is actually a really sweet guy and one of the better Dead Men. Gist wielders usually die pretty young but this man is like 500 and still somehow going. Unlike many of the other Dead Men, he’s actually REASONABLE in what they should do. People can’t tell when he’s joking because he has a flat voice. He was sad after the war and so decided to make a teleporting hotel. He’s awesome.

And there was Erskine, who legitimately cared about and was loyal to his friends for so long before eventually joining up with the Children of the Spider and slowly working against his friends until he murdered two of them and the other four literally disowned him and swore vengeance.

And in terms of dead members, Hopeless grew up in a damn assassin cult and switched personalities depending on who was with, with his one recurring theme being that he liked animals and didn’t want unnecessary harm to come to them. And of course, Larrikin, who we know almost nothing about but DO know that he was a jokester who tried to get Anton to lighten up, even in extremely tense circumstances.

And finally, we have the most disastrous duo in Ireland. Skulduggery went insane after death and tried so damn hard to curb his violent tendencies and outbursts, but ultimately failed and became a monster who hurt and killed his friends. He’s ruthless and he’d kill anyone he deemed necessary to succeed in the mission. He’s slowly learned to become less dependent on vengeance over time. He’d burn the world down for Valkyrie. He also raised a child soldier and openly admits that the two of them do not have a healthy relationship, and yet they choose to remain inseparable anyways.

And Valkyrie. The youngest of the Dead Men. A child soldier. She joined a full-scale war on a suicide squad literal days after turning eighteen. She’s been through a drug addiction and she’s buff as hell. The people she fights with usually either die or end up befriending her. She inches just a little bit closer to godhood every day, but she still can’t save the people she loves when it matters most. She wasn’t supposed to live past eighteen. Her personality disorder became the universe. She is so, SO doomed and she knows it, and she wouldn’t have it any other way.

They’re such a godawful found family, man. A bunch of people who adopted each other because no one else wanted them. This isn’t a particularly deep analysis about any of them, I’m just expressing how much I love what was done with them.

[gemsofthegalaxy]

Jinx vs Powder, which is it? - Discussing the Present Moment and lack of an "end state"

Upon watching Season 2 I was a bit conflicted on the idea of Powder vs Jinx, and in thinking about it, the conundrum reminded me of some gripes I've seen many people reference about the season as a whole, which I will get into as this analysis goes on. First off, though, I didn't know how to feel on the whole Powder vs Jinx idea. The show makes such a huge deal of it in Season 1 and it ends with the "resolution". it's Jinx. Powder is gone, fell down a well, the final time.

Only for this conflict to continue on in Season 2, be a constant push and pull when we felt like the question was answered already! Jinx is Jinx, walks through life a shell of a person for a bit, then Isha comes into her life and throws everything into question. She has something to care about, someone to love, which feels a little more like ol Powder, and then that increases again and again by the reemergence of Vander, who calls her Powder, on top of the fact that months after declaring each other "no longer sisters", Vi's back in her life and they're getting along again, just like that.

This, of course, gets ripped out from under her again in no time as well. Jinx drops to her lowest point, Vi tries to save her, she forsakes her and runs away and tells her not to worry about her anymore. She knows, now, there's no good version of her, everyone who gets close to her gets hurt or dies. This happens, again and again.

Then, Ekko comes back after a whole episode dedicated to him meeting AU Powder. Powder as she could have been, as we might even think we want her to be. A Powder with a loving family and a good measure less trauma in her life. In some ways, this might affirm the idea that this is Powder, and our Jinx is Jinx. But we also see that this version of Powder reignites Ekko's hope in our Jinx, even though we know the reason they're so different is she hasn't lived that same life.

So. Ekko convinces Jinx, somehow, they can always build something new. What he means is she can always try again. She said, hours ago, possibly not even, "there's no good version of me" and Ekko (even having not heard that) says "bullshit, I just saw a version of you that was good." And then there's another aspect to it, AU Silco's message: there's no greater power than to forgive. Ekko forgives Jinx, forgives himself for giving up on her, and wants her to forgive herself. Now, it might have been nice to see more of this conversation, but, I think we can infer that all the lessons Ekko took from the AU verse were things he would at least start trying to instill upon Jinx. To plant the seed, if you will, that she can forgive herself, she can build something new, she can be whoever she damn well wants to be. Powder, Jinx- does it really even matter? What she calls herself is beside the point. What matters is what she's doing now, and what she ends up doing is joining Ekko in the fight.

I watched a great video essay that dissected a bit of Ekko's character and one of the reasons he's so good-hearted is that he is present-focused. In fact, he's one of the only characters who is present-focused and remains so most of the time. Powder/Jinx, and Vi, they're stuck in the past. Viktor and Jayce are trying to force the future to come towards them, Silco's also obsessed with making a future dream happen while allowing his past to harden him to all connection outside of Jinx, Heimerdinger is so far in the future he can't understand the day-to-day issues small or large that humans face. Ekko cares about what is happening now. He's a man of action. And his power, his z-drive, also exemplifies how things can change, moment-to-moment, he goes back in time briefly so he can make the best of the exact present he's in and get it right.

Which actually speaks to something bigger in Season 2 I've seen people have gripes about, how some conflicts get resolved very easily between characters with a lot of tension between them, mostly Cait and Vi, and how longstanding political issues get dropped for bigger political plots. I've talked about why Vi reacts how she does to Cait in the prison cell scene, but I haven't touched on when they meet at the commune, but I think it also sort of fits well into the theme of present-focused = morally good. Cait has been on a descent into worse behaviour, but, she's been waffling too. She doesn't fully trust Ambessa or know where she lies on matters. So, the moment she sees Vi again, she's given a new option, a new out, and she makes use of it rather than mince words about who did what or why. I don't necessarily think this is a bad thing, and Vi, as someone who appreciates action and is protective, would also probably see this favourably (although, they do get around to arguing a bit more later, which I think is fitting)

Now, I understand why people are frustrated that the Piltover vs Zaun conflict takes a backseat. It's something that I do think could have been handled better, but, I also feel like I understand a bit what they were going for here. Yes, they've been embroiled in this conflict for a long time, but right now, in this moment, if they don't stand together they're that much more likely to lose. You can't fight for the existence of a nation that was wiped off the very map by an outside force.

Again, being present-focused and dealing with what is happening now is the only way to deal with Noxus marching on them. They cannot continue to worry about locking Jinx up or striking a deal for independence, again, there's not gonna be a nation of Zaun if Noxus takes over, either. I get why this is frustrating, but, I think it's realistic and I don't think it's counter to the story they've been telling, especially not in Season 2.

The whole Jinx vs Powder thing doesn't get to be tied up with a little bow on it, because Powder will always, always, always be what Jinx was named as a baby, and she will never not have been a child called Powder with the same blue hair she has now. There's no version of her (in Arcane, anyway) who wasn't insecure and brainy as a child and didn't go through some heartbreaking stuff. Silco told her to let Powder die, because he let his former self die and it made him stronger- but did he really? He still wistfully sits at Vander's statue, pours out a drink for him, and laments over fatherhood. Does that sound like a man who has left Vander in the past? As well, he's still desperately afraid of losing Jinx, showing there's something of the humanity left that he clings to. If Silco was alive to meet Vander's new form, surely they would have had words, even for all Silco said he was a changed man. Maybe they would have even had the power to forgive, AU Silco did.

The thing is, for as long as Jinx is alive, she will be inventing herself every day, for the rest of her life, she doesn't just get to decide she's "done" now. We are all the sum of everything we've ever done + what we decide to do in this moment. We all carry our histories into what we do next. There's no final state of being a person who's still alive and breathing, things will always change, new experiences will happen and shape us or give us new ideas or affirm our previous thoughts. This is also true on a societal level, no country or city or town stays completely static, there is no Done, the world just keeps on turning and things will develop, systems will rise and fall and be torn down and be built up.

As long as we're alive, there's always a chance to build something new.

[jumpywhumpywriter]

Villain's Coffee Shop part 6

Warnings: bleeding out, gravely injured Villain, stab wounds, corrupt Superhero

"Now you know why I spent my days fighting people like you," Villain snorted bitterly. "It's the only way I can make enough to stay off the streets and survive. By stealing and killing."

Hero's gaze grew distant, thoughtful, before there was a sudden flash of furry motion off to Hero's left that sent her springing from the chair, daggers in hand ready to attack the threat.

"Wait! Don't hurt him!" Villain barked frantically.

"'Him'?!" Hero squawked, but his words made her hesitate long enough to realize that it was... literally just a cat. Embarrassment flushed Hero's face as she sheathed her blades and sat back down. She stared at the scruffy cat, which had black fur... and it was missing a whole front leg, along with a large chunk of one ear.

Hero gawked at the feline as he bunched his hind legs and hopped up onto the table next to the couch, giving her a quizzical look. "You have... a three-legged cat. I am both surprised and somehow unsurprised at the same time."

"Somebody has to adopt the unwanted critter," Villain shrugged. "Like me. Unwanted. Only I'm not adoptable," he added quickly when he saw Hero winding up to make a snarky joke about it. "His name is Mocha."

"Seriously? You named it after a caffeine drink?"

"It's a cat that lives in a coffee shop, Hero. Mocha is an appropriate name," Villain argued defensively. "Apparently Mocha got into a fight with a loose dog, and no one wanted to adopt a mangled cat, let alone one that also had black fur. They're often considered bad luck. But I took him before he could be euthanized."

"That's... actually kind of sweet of you," Hero said, gently stroking the cat's head. Mocha purred loudly, an oddly raspy kind of purr like a broken motor, and climbed into her lap, kneading her leather suit with his remaining front paw and arching his back happily.

"Mocha is the sweetest cat you will ever find, you just have to look past all the scarring." Hero was taken aback by the fondness in Villain's face as he reached a weak, trembling hand toward Mocha, who instantly abandoned Hero to hop onto the couch and settle down on Villain's chest instead, still purring madly.

Villain sighed heavily, petting Mocha's curled-up form gently. Hero would have never guessed him to be capable of kindness, given his violent reputation.

"...Would you be willing to consider switching sides?" Hero asked softly. "Be a hero instead of a villain like you are now?"

Villain's eyes darted over to her, surprised. "I'm pretty sure it's too late for that," he rasped quietly. "I've killed too many people. I'm not worth your time."

"Maybe so," Hero agreed solemnly, "but you can always give it a try. I have connections, I could get you on our Hero team where you can use your powers to save lives instead of take them. And you wouldn't have to show anyone your face, either. We can design you a new mask." She bit her lip nervously. "...It's up to you in the end, but I get the feeling you've got a lot more good inside you than you're willing to admit." She put a reassuring hand on Villain's shoulder, and he flinched hard, disturbing Mocha who meowed in protest before settling again.

"Just... think about it for awhile, Villain. Can you promise me that?" Hero glanced around and snatched up a notepad and pen, scribbling something down and tearing off a page to hand to Villain. "This is my personal number if... you'd like to reach out." Villain stared numbly at the paper in his hand.

A chance. He'd said he'd needed a chance. Just one. And now he held that chance on a thin piece of paper. "...Thank you," he murmured after a brief hesitation. "And not just for this, I mean for... listening, I guess, and saving my life." Villain cleared his throat awkwardly, fumbling over his words.

But Hero smiled playfully, standing up and ruffling Villain's hair. "I look forward to hearing from you."

Villain scowled and ran a hand through his hair to flatten it back down. "I'll let that slide because I'm in so much pain I can barely think straight, but try that again when I'm at full-strength, and I'll destroy you," he grouched.

Hero laughed as she headed toward the back door. "Heal up, Villain, and then we have work to do."

Villain smiled faintly at Hero's back as she left, darkness in his gaze. Oh, he had work to do indeed… Hero was in way over her head dealing with him. He grinned down at Mocha, who affectionately nuzzled into his hand. “What do you say, Mocha? Should I cause some trouble?”

---The current, ominous end.

UPDATE: due to popular demand, I continued this storyline further!

⏪️ Back Next ⏩️

Masterlist

@scoundrelwithboba @lumpofsand @isikedmyself878 @iamheretohurt @fleur-a-whump

@ay5ksal @otterfrost @sausages-things @i-don't-know-sal @togzy

@whump-till-ya-jump @cravesunconditionallove @whumpwritinglover222 @watermelons-dont-grow-on-trees

@federthenotsogreat @everynameistakencarrots

[transformersbrainrot]

MegOp is making me crazy as usual, but now I have some new, specific inspiration!

So it started with @that-fanperson-meg saying this under a post I made about the Transformers account posting a TFO MegOp edit.

I recognized the name of the song but had never actually listened to it, and hooooo boy, it activated something in the part of my brain that thinks about MegOp... So, I'm listening to this song, and I have the clearest vision that it's about Megatron's mindset/thoughts during his mental health's lowest point in the worst depths of the war. (fair warning, my analysis/brainrot is based on my own personal continuity/au, so there are some minor references to that, but it's all fairly standard, and I explain it a bit, so just go with it, and you shouldn't be confused.) Ok, preamble over. Time for the lyrical analysis:

I hope that our few remaining friends Give up on trying to save us I hope we come up with a failsafe plot To piss off the dumb few that forgave us I hope the fences we mended Fall down beneath their own weight And I hope we hang on past the last exit I hope it's already too late

Megatron assumes that Optimus is in just as bad of a place as he is. He's wrong, of course, OP certainly isn't enjoying himself, but he has an actual support system that he feels comfortable leaning on. On the other hand, Soundwave is the only thing even approaching a friend for Megatron (and he is waaay too closed off at this point to admit it). Starscream is a backstabbing, power-hungry sycophant with his own heap of baggage (I really gotta make a post about my version of all that sometime); Shockwave is purely logic-driven as usual, only interested in advancing the Cybertronian race via the Decepticon cause. By this time, Megatron feels like both sides are too deep into the war to even consider peace. He honestly can't fathom it.

And I hope the junkyard a few blocks from here Someday burns down And I hope the rising black smoke carries me far away And I never come back to this town again in my life

Megatron has always wanted to escape the path that was decided for him. But now, after losing what he and Orion had and the resulting fallout, he won't go quietly into the night, not before causing some irreparable damage first. And the war will do just that. He hopes the destruction the great war causes keeps pushing him forward, even out beyond Cybertron. At least then, he won't ever need to face the past and who he used to be. He couldn't recognize himself now if he tried, so he doesn't even try.

I hope I lie And tell everyone you were a good wife And I hope you die I hope we both die

Even though it's clear to him that they hate each other and are not good for each other, Megatron still has some form of loyalty to what he and Orion had. If somehow, someday, someone were to ask him about them, he wouldn’t tell them about all their problems, but instead that they were good together. Maybe if this hypothetical future version of Megatron doesn't mention all the pain their split caused, then maybe it was a little less real. He knows that as long as Optimus is around, he won't be able to stop fighting; he's just too hurt and angry. He wishes Optimus would just die, that they both would.

I hope I cut myself shaving tomorrow I hope it bleeds all day long Our friends say it's darkest before the sun rises We're pretty sure they're all wrong I hope it stays dark forever I hope the worst isn't over And I hope you blink before I do And I hope I never get sober

Soundwave, the only even semi-positive influence on him right now, is the one telling Megatron it's darkest before the sun rises. Soundwave is a true believer in the original cause of the Decepticons, probably the last one in High Command; everyone else is either using the cause as a means to take out their pain (Megatron and Starscream) or as a means to an end (Shockwave). Megatron is finding it harder and harder to believe Soundwave with each passing day, and yet again assumes Optimus is doing the same. He's starting to hope it never ends. He's comfortable with it now; the war fills the hole that his old life left in him. All he really knows is that he can't bring himself to yield to Optimus and doesn't think he ever will. If he did, he wouldn't know what to do with himself.

And I hope when you think of me years down the line You can't find one good thing to say And I'd hope that if I found the strength to walk out You'd stay the hell out of my way

Megatron is hoping that Optimus is suffering too, since he is, and doesn’t want him to feel anything positive through this since he cannot. But at the same time, he’s trying so hard to be a bastard so that it won’t hurt as much. He does still want to speak well of their past if he gets the chance, so some loyalty or fondness remains deep down. If there were good times to look back on, there would be sadness that those times are over. If Optimus has nothing good to say about him, all he would feel is relief that that part of their lives is over.

I am drowning There is no sign of land You are coming down with me Hand in unlovable hand And I hope you die I hope we both die

Megatron can't see any way out of where he's gotten them. To him, there's no path to peace anymore. The only solace Megatron can find is the hope that Optimus falls with him. Even now, the two of their fates must be interlocked, as if it were a universal constant to him - simple common sense. He just wants it to be over, even as he can't bring himself to stop.

[dragonagecompanions]

DAI romances react to Inquisitor’s "death" in "here lies the abyss". Like, he/she supposedly left them behind, to not to endanger them. So, the siege begins, they get inside Adamant, but the inquisitor is nowhere to be found. They run to the bridge where he/she was supposed to be and see it collapsed. One of agents says that and Inquisitor, along with the Warden and Hawke, fell into a cliff. What would they do while the siege of the fortress continues? And how would they react to the return? tnx

Cassandra: She does not want to believe it, at first. It has taken so long for her to open her heart to this man, and somehow over these long months the last Seeker has convinced herself that he is untouchable. Haven, the Conclave, the Anchor-- nothing can stop him for long. It was the same mistake she made with Anthony, and the same terrible grief threatens not only her soul but in battle her safety as well. There is enough distraction at least that the fear and the grief do not have long to hold onto her before he returns.

But later, when the screams of battle have ended and he is safe in her arms again, she will let the fear pull unwelcome tears-- and be soothed that he is still there to comfort her.

Solas: It is a judgement blow to the world, that it is the Gray Wardens and their folly that have stolen his Vhenan from him. She was a touchstone in a world so shattered from its proper place-- and her abscence destroys any chance of mercy from the Dread Wolf. He remains at the battle only because he must - and oh it tears at him- disinter her from the rocks to reclaim the power of the Anchor and that is a process best left to the Inquisition. The anger that wells up in him is vented at those who still oppose the Herald's forces, and there is no mercy from the soft spoken apostate until news reaches them that their fearless leader yet lives.

To hold her again, even for the few moments he can allow them, is a paradise. Even if he someday must betray her, even unto the ending of all she has known, it will at least be with a proper farewell and apology.

It is not enough, and yet as he holds her close at the end of the battle, it is enough for the momoent.

Blackwall: It staggers him. To lose her at all is devastating, but for her to fall while trying to help the Wardens is...

Is like standing in the rain and knowing the Warden who saw good in a disgraced captain wasn't coming back from the Deep Roads. The guilt and the shame are like a knife, but knowing that his lies might well have driven her on burn like poison. There is no antidote for his agony, and he can only turn himself to the battle; he can save at least those who were truly brave enough to take the oath and fight the corruption in their ranks.

When she comes back to him, whole and hale and as beautiful as ever, it breaks something in him. When they return to Skyhold he will tell her everything, and there will be no more lies between them.

Dorian: This was always a chance. That was a given going in, an acceptable risk to this whole arrangement, and while it hurts of course at least there is the comfort that the Herald fell...the Inquisitor died doing his...

Maker, he can't even lie to himself. It's devastating, and the moment the Tevinter mage hears the world seems to jolt on his axis. Of course the man he was beginning to love could not survive; there is no destiny kind enough to give Dorian Pavus a chance at the kind of love that last the ages. And so he will give it a story to shake the heavens instead. Those who fight alongside the Inquisition's necromancer will never forget how their foes rose in legions to attack former allies, nor the panic that sprung up in the ranks of their enemies. There are none brave enough to comment on the tears that stream down the mage's face for the battle either, and few willing to stare at him long enough to notice it besides.

But when it is all settled and the Herald is of course miraculously fine again, Dorian...can't. He can't go to him right away, can't hold him close until the shaking has finally stopped. There is tenderness on the road, the gentle touches that assure them both that the other is still alive, but Dorian waits until Skyhold is safe around them before he can truly believe his amatus is safe.

Then they will have words.

Iron Bull: Katoh. There are demons and mages and all manner of magicky....things trying to kill them. If he has failed as a front line body guard to his Kadan, he will not fail their inquisition. The gaping wound deep in his soul will have to wait until...

Until later. Katoh.

(Later, of course, he brings out the good rope and spends plenty of time explaining exactly why they will never do this again.)

Cullen: He wants to weep of course, to throw his sword away and scream, but there is simply no time. Thousands of souls rely on their commander to see them through, and no matter his own grief he will not abandon them. He gives orders and directs soldiers and fights on until the bitter end. When that is done he pushes onward, pushing himself to hold the line and trying to strike down his inner demons by slaughtering outer ones. There is nothing else left.

When she returns to him, there is not even an attempt to hide their reunion as some sort of debrief or meeting. The soldiers might cheer and whistle as their commander carries the Herald to his tent (not for that, lay abouts!) but as it is for their love of both commander and Inquisitor neither very much mind.

Josephine: The hours between one missive and the next are some of the most desolate she has ever known. Leliana and Cullen and all of those persons she has grown close to in the Inquisitors inner circle are gone, and so she can take only a few moments in the stairwell to that dark and hidden library to sob out her grief. If the inquisitor is indeed fallen it will require all of her acumen to keep their allies close, and that is not something that can be done in the early pain of her grief.

If she is there longer than she intended, her wails and sobs swallowed by the silent stone, no one need ever know. And blessed Andraste surely has a hand over her herald, as the next missive is jubilant in the news that her love indeed lives. Her tears are joyful now, but that does not mean she will not have words when their beloved Inquisitor returns.

Mod Fereldone

[exactlycleverpirate]

Half Baked Theories

So here are my half-baked theories upon reading all of the Love and Deepspace myths, anecdotes, etc.

So, Rafayel found MC isolated on an island for some reason or other, surrounded by the ocean and doomed to one day be drowned by the sea. They fell in love, and he gave her his heart, quite literally (somehow), though he remains connected to it through their bond. Because Lemurian's blood is eternal, and she is now bound to one, and the God of the Sea at that, she is now eternal. Sort of. But not undying. Neither are the Lemurians undying, as we see they can be killed. (I suspect this all takes place on Earth before it's destruction, since Philos is described as separate tectonic plates held together by its core, making me think the oceans have disappeared (drained into space perhaps?)).

By the time we meet MC in the current timeline, she is already bound to Rafayel in some fashion or other. Does that mean she already has his heart? She also has an Aethor protocore implanted into her heart via scientific experimentation. Perhaps Rafayel gives her his heart later in some effort to save her from something due to the Aethor core? Maybe this results in a resonance link of some sort, between the eternal Lemurian heart of the God of the Sea and the Aethor protocore. In Xavier’s Myth, we learn that protocores used to have hearts inside them. (MC's Evol also pertains to Resonance.)

(Also, what is frozen in ice on Mount Eternal? Possibly another Aethor Core?)

So now flash forward to Philos. In Zayne's Myth, we learn that MC's heart is connected to the Creatio protocore. Due to the resonance of the Creatio and her heart, it drains her heart to power itself. It also can heal her heart when fused with it (at least temporarily?). When she meets Xavier on a young Philos, she already knows her heart is dying and that there is a particular protocore that can somehow heal her. (How does she know of this rare protocore? Who told her?)

Perhaps the Creatio protocore used to be the Aethor core fused to the God of the Sea’s heart. Then somehow, with Earth’s destruction, the heart and the Creatio are separated, but still linked by resonance. This begins the endless cycle of draining the Sea God's heart to power the Creatio, which kills MC, but because the heart is that of an eternal Lemurian, she reincarnates, to repeat the process again and again. (Is the Creatio the core of the planet that keeps Philos' people immortal, or is her heart linked to the core, perhaps by fusing it with the Creatio, at a later point when the original power of the core is drained away?)

In this first life on Philos, Xavier brings her the Creatio, but it is too late to save her (or he doesn't know how to use it) and she dies.

Perhaps as a result of the Creatio being forcefully taken once, (who did Xavier have to fight to retrieve it from?) the Creatio is placed under the watch of the Foreseer in the Tower of Thorns, by the mysterious "god" Astra. MC is reincarted over and over, drawn to the Creatio and Foreseer over and over, she dies over and over, and his memories are erased each time, until finally Zayne breaks free and sacrifices himself to save MC, fusing her heart and the Creatio and saving her life. Zayne falls into eternal slumber, trapped in the frozen tower, behind a never ending blizzard.

Presumably, this is a temporary fix somehow or other, and she dies again eventually, or is killed.

Meanwhile, multiple Gods of the the Sea have lived over time. (Are these all reincarnations of Rafayel or are there other Sea Gods as well?) Eventually, MC is reincarnated in the Golden Sands. By this point, somehow the people of Philos have come to understand that her heart keeps them immortal. Philos is at least 30,000 years old by this point, as its seas have been dry for 30,000 years. The people of Philos have placed MC under guard in a palace. Her heart is not noticeably dying now, perhaps because Zayne reunited it with the Creatio.

She and Rafayel reunite, and she eventually remembers their history. She also learns that if she does not return the Sea God's heart to Rafayel (by cutting it out of her chest and dying), he will eventually fall into eternal slumber and the seas will never be restored. Rafayel attempts to save her by erasing her memories and severing the bond between them, leaving the heart with her. However, MC is able to recover both her memories and the bond. She and Rafayel escape together in search of a solution.

(At this point, we don't know how this ends. Does Rafayel fall into eternal slumber? Does MC kill herself in an effort to save him, or does his servant kill her to try to save Rafayel and restore the sea? Perhaps Rafayel, like Xavier, finds a way to go back in time? No idea.)

Once more, we assume MC dies again at some point. She is eventually reincarnated at a time when Philos is beginning to die. She and Xavier attend an Academy together. Xavier learns that Starfall Forest contains (or is connected to?) the core of the planet, which now requires human lives to stay powered. It consumes humans, which become Wanderers who contain a protocore that used to contain their heart. The royal family started out sending human sacrifices into the forest, but eventually figured out MC could be the endless sacrifice to power the core.

(When did they discover this? Presumably the royal family has been alive since the creation of Philos, since Xavier has been around since its very early years, and he is the Crown Prince. The royal family sent regular emissaries to the Foreseer for prophecies from Astra. The royal family also is mentioned in Rafayel's myth, when MC clarifies that she is not actually related to the royal family. So how long have they known about MC and when did they begin intentionally sacrificing her to power the heart? Is this how she dies even though both Zayne and Rafayel sacrifice themselves to save her? There are no Wanderers in Zayne or Rafayel's myths. Did they not exist yet? They exist on Earth, but perhaps that is due to them traveling through spacetime with Xavier’s timejump.)

The MC at the end of Xavier’s Myth has no current obvious problem with her heart, though Xavier seems fearful of one. But if she is no longer dying to power the core, then surly that means the core will begin to die, and the planet and people of Philos with it. Xavier and a team leave MC as Queen of Philos, and they travel back in time in an effort to find a way to stop the planet and MC from dying. However, something goes wrong, and they crash. The Deepspace Tunnel opens up over Linkon, and through it, the dead planet of Philos can be seen.

Please give me your thoughts, peeps. I am desperate the talk lore with someone.