#wick can still be complex and a little fucked up and it can still be wrong that mitzi stole from him

[wickmitz]

was once again glancing at the lackadaisy reddit and i genuinely feel a little crazy about how people perceive the wick and mitzi arc from retinue to sneakthief? or, honestly, their arc in general. to act as though wick is some patron saint greatly amuses me when it’s implied by mitzi and the comic that wick had either proposed a business deal himself or had been very amendable to talk about it after their kiss and / or other intimate acts last night … mitzi didn’t pull this out of her ass! she did not put this upon wick randomly. it was something they mutually agreed to do, and given how hard wick tries to wiggle away from the conversation without outright saying no ( aka giving excuses to stall ) i would even guess he essentially already agreed to such a deal, in the throes of passion, only for him to not fully mean it later. this doesn’t mean it was right at all for her to then steal from wick! this isn’t me excusing that! but wick isn’t some poor meow meow either in this scenario, even if he is the ‘lesser’ evil overall.

and tbh i also think the conversation was doomed from the start : wick was horrifically exhausted and was still too shaken up by rocky’s ‘joke’ to fully engage with mitzi, as well as finally having church’s warning start to weigh on him … and then there’s mitzi, who wasn’t faring any better! what with viktor out of commission, asa turning on her, mordecai threatening her, and then having spent most of the afternoon hearing her dead husband’s name be thrown around. in order to hurt her and scare her into obedience, mind you. like, neither were in any state to discuss business or romance!! so it’s no surprise it went poorly. especially when both of them were equally sore and testy during their date.

[atleastpleasetelephone]

Little Darling

Chapter 5 - The man I used to be

It's 1997, and Elvis is still alive and well. He quit music in 1972 after a successful world tour, and now he runs Presley Studios - teaching people karate across America. His daughter and grandchildren are regular visitors at Graceland, and when he’s in Memphis he likes to do a little teaching. His life is quieter now, though. Most of the Mafia have gone - going to live their own lives - and after his divorce from his second wife, Elvis is sworn off women for good. Will a Welsh girl with a wicked sense of humour be the one to make him break his promise to himself not to fall in love again?

Need to catch up? Go here.

Pairing: Old Man!Elvis x OC - Tegan, a Welsh girl he meets at karate class.

Word Count: 5.6K

TWs: Angst, crying, angry!Elvis, self-esteem issues all-round, erectile dysfunction, body worship, praise kink, some smutty bits.

A/N: This is a difficult chapter for a number of reasons - there's a lot going on and a lot of complex emotions. Thanks to everyone who has commented and re-blogged so far, comments are life so the more I get the happier I am! And I know if you're enjoying it.

Elvis spends the next day wondering what he’s doing with Tegan. He sits at the piano, mid-afternoon, running through some scales and a few snatches of songs. He looks around the empty living room. It’s harder to get a house full of people nowadays. The guys are older and they spend more time with their families than they used to. He can get plenty of people round for an event - the barbeque the other weekend proved that - but there’s not the constant presence of guys and fans and family like back in the seventies or even the eighties. The divorce had coincided with a slow drift of people out of his life and into their own. Lisa doesn’t even stay in Graceland when she’s back in Memphis, even though he’d tried asking her to. She’s working on her new relationship, and she wants to spend time with her boyfriend when she’s in Memphis, not with her dad.

For the first time in a long time, Elvis realises he’s lonely. He’s been keeping himself busy for years now with the karate schools, but he can’t stay in Memphis for more than a month at a time. It’s hard to persuade someone to come round for dinner every night; sometimes he has to eat alone. He’s kept moving so he barely notices, but sitting in the living room at Graceland, silent save for his absent-minded piano tinkling, he realises how much he craves company. Last night had gone by so quickly, Tegan was so easy to talk to and her skin was so soft. He’s missed more than just conversation and company. He’s missed sex too. He had liked playing with her and finding out what turns her on, and he had liked watching her lose herself to pleasure too. 

He puts the lid down on the piano and rests his elbows on it, head in his hands. He remembers calling her a needy thing because she wanted to see him before Tuesday. He groans. He wants to see her right now, and he wants to keep her here with him forever. It hurts, being here alone, being without her, wanting her so badly. The loneliness that he’d been holding at bay for so long comes crashing through his defences, hitting him like a tidal wave. Tears gather in the corners of his eyes and run down his nose, splashing on the piano lid. Fuck. 

“Daddy?”

He’d been so wrapped up in his own sadness he hadn’t noticed the sound of the door closing and when he looks up he sees Lisa standing there, with Riley and Ben. He quickly wipes his eyes and stands up.

“Hey! How are my two favourite grandkids, hm?”

Riley rolls her eyes, letting him hug her. “We’re your only grandkids, Elvis.”

He looks up at Lisa. “She got this from you, y’know. Callin’ me Elvis.”

Lisa laughs and tells both kids to go and raid the kitchen for lunch. 

Riley runs off towards the kitchen immediately but Ben pauses, unsure. He tugs Elvis’ sleeve. Elvis bends down and picks him up easily, cuddling the little boy to him and kissing the top of his head. 

“What’s up, punk?”

Lisa snorts at her dad calling her son “punk”. 

“Have you been crying?” Ben puts a little hand against Elvis’ face and stares into his eyes with grave concern. 

“Little bit.”

“Why?”

Elvis lets out a huff of air. Why had he been crying? “Jus’ felt a little sad, s’all.” He brushes Ben’s hair back off his forehead. “Much happier now you’re here.” He squeezes the little boy tightly and then looks at him again to see how that statement fell. 

Ben’s big eyes still look worried. Lisa thinks he’s way too worried, always, for a five year old. 

“Are you sure?”

“Am I sure I’m better now you and Riley are here? Of course I’m sure. Why dontcha go help ya sister find some lunch, hm? Mary’ll help ya. Ya must be hungry, growin’ little fella like you?”

Ben nods solemnly and allows himself to be put down, walking slowly and purposefully to the kitchen. Elvis frowns a little. “Are ya sure he’s five and not fifty five, Yis?”

She sighs and puts an arm around her dad, laying her head on his shoulder. “Well he’s very perceptive for a five year old, I’ll give him that. You ok?”

“Think anyone coulda seen me cryin’ back there. Even a little kid.”

His arm goes around her too, pulling her close. 

“You okay?” She asks again. 

Elvis makes a sort of grumbling noise and moves to sit on the sofa. Lisa sits next to him and waits patiently for a response. Or, as patiently as she can. When another two minutes of strange silence have passed she huffs and pokes him in the side. 

“You gonna tell me?”

“Not gonna get away without, am I?” He mutters. “Lonely here, Yis. On my own a lot.”

“What about Tegan?”

“Saw her last night.” His face breaks into a smile. “She came for dinner.”

Lisa sits up and grins. “And?”

The smile continues to play on his lips as he thinks about her on his lap all night, talking to him about her tattoos. “It was good.”

“Good? Is that it?!”

“I like her, Yis. I really like her. But she’s so much younger, I jus’... I dunno.”

Lisa shakes her head. “Don’t see what difference that makes. She’s not Stella, or mom. She’s her own person. You have to give it a try on its own terms.”

“‘M tryin’.”

“Why don’t you invite her round for lunch now?”

He shakes his head. “‘M try’na take it slow.”

Lisa falls back against the sofa cushions with a bump, sighing loudly. “Why?”

Elvis pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration. “Because I don’t wanna fuck it up, okay?” He stands up and starts to move towards the kitchen. “I’m gonna get somethin’ to eat if the locusts haven’t got ta everythin’ already.”

Lisa watches him go, and then realises she’s hungry too and gets up herself. She’s surprised at her dad taking anything slowly, but perhaps he knows what he’s doing. She supposes she’ll have to wait and see.

***

“Ya need to really protect yourself with yer arms. No. C’mere.” Elvis stands in front of Tegan, a forearm in each hand, and manoeuvres them around as she steps back. “Y’see?”

She tries hard to keep a straight face but she can’t help giggling. “Yeah… kinda.”

Elvis puts on a mock-serious face. “No laughin’ at karate. ‘Sa serious sport.”

Still trying not to laugh, she attempts the block again, but when he grabs one of her arms and moves it where it’s supposed to go she fails and starts giggling.

“C’mon. Again. On yer own.”

Letting out a breath, she tries to compose herself. “O-okay. So, like… this?” 

He shrugs a little and gives his head a little shake. “Better than it was before. Practise at home. Now, step forward and snap punch. No… mid-chest. C’mon. Really try an’ punch me. That’s better.”

He makes her go through the two step move a few more times and then tells her and the rest of the group that they can go and get another drink. She gulps down some water and then passes the bottle to Maria. 

“You two are getting on well,” Maria observes with a wry smile. 

Tegan can’t help smiling back. “Yeah. I went to Graceland for dinner at the weekend.”

“You did?” Maria’s eyebrows shoot to the ceiling. “You didn’t mention it!”

“Well, I know you’re not keen.”

“Oh T, it’s not that. I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

Tegan nods slowly. “I know.” She’s about to continue when Elvis calls them back to class. “I’ll tell you later.”

When the class finishes the rest of the students file out and Elvis realises only Tegan and Maria are left. Maria realises too, telling her friend she’ll see her in the car and giving Elvis a quick wave. Tegan picks up her bag as he makes his way towards her, a broad smile on his face. 

“Ya need ta practice more at home,” he tells her, forefinger under her chin, tipping her face towards his so he can press a soft kiss to her lips. 

“Maybe I need some private tuition?” 

He takes his sunglasses off and holds her face firmly in his hand, kissing her deeply. Her hands make their way around his neck as she presses her body against his. 

“Ya can come home with me right now an’ I’ll teach ya some things…” he mumbles against her lips, intoxicated by the feel of her, the way she smells. 

“Yes please.”

He pulls back, resting his forehead against hers, panting a little. “I shouldna said that.”

She pouts a little. “Why?”

“I’m tryna take this slow.”

She groans. “Well don’t kiss me like that then!” 

“Sorry, honey. Got carried away. Yer always makin’ me get carried away…” he strokes her cheek gently with his finger. 

“Maybe that means something? Maybe you should just… get carried away.”

He giggles, his apple cheeks prominent as he looks down at her. “Temptin’. But ya should go home, sure ya have work in the mornin’…”

“Well, yeah. You still coming for dinner at the weekend?”

He nods. “Sure am.”

“Okay, see you then.”

***

Elvis enjoys dinner at Tegan’s apartment. She cooks him a roast and he teases her about nearly all of the components, but he gobbles down the whole plate and asks for seconds. She even manages to persuade him to try a gin and tonic, although he doesn’t ask for a second one of those. They talk and joke around and at some point the teasing turns to touching and he’s making her cum on her sofa this time. She asks again, but he’s still not interested in getting anything in return. Their relationship continues like this for weeks - they see one another on Saturday nights and at karate, they get closer, but not too close. He gives her an orgasm every time he sees her, but he won’t even take his shirt off, never mind let her touch his dick. He brings her flowers and trinkets, but he’s afraid to take her out in public in case they’re hounded by the press. She loves being with him, but she feels like he keeps her at arm’s length. She’s fully in this, but it’s like he’s just standing in the shallow end, watching her. 

She doesn’t feel like she can tell Maria, so when her friend asks she just says everything’s going well, they’re taking it slowly, getting to know each other. But she’s not sure how much longer she can keep waiting for him to feel more comfortable with her, or want to dive right in the deep end and lose control. She can’t understand what’s holding him back, and is trying to work out how to broach the subject with him at Graceland that evening, when the phone rings unexpectedly and it's Elvis inviting her to the zoo. First of all she thinks he’s joking, and then when she realises he’s not she agrees enthusiastically. She does love animals, and they will actually be seen together in person. Perhaps she’s been patient enough, and she doesn’t need to talk to him at all. Things have just worked out on their own. He tells her he’ll pick her up in half an hour and she hurries to get ready. 

***

“Honey, ya need ta know somethin’,” Elvis tells her as she gets into the car and he kisses her hello. 

“Oh yeah?”

“Ya might be in the papers tomorrow. If someone spots us an’ takes a photo…”

She shrugs. How bad could it be? “Okay, cool.”

He stares at her intensely for a moment. “They could say all kindsa things about ya. Jus’ want ya ta be prepared.”

She nods. “Okay.”

Elvis doesn’t think she’s taking him seriously enough but he’s not sure what else he can say. 

She sees him frowning a little and kisses his cheek. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine. Take me to the zoo!”

***

Tegan enjoys the zoo until the paparazzi arrive. She’d thought that because there was hardly anyone outside Graceland anymore and people in the karate classes treated him mostly as if his being there was completely normal, that the press wasn’t bothered about Elvis Presley anymore. Boy was she wrong. Someone had obviously tipped them off, and from the penguin enclosure onwards they were harassed by men with cameras and reporters shouting questions. Wanting to know who she was, how they met, how long they’d been together, did they plan to get married? Had she met his daughter, was she the same age as his daughter, what were they doing at the zoo? And another million intrusive questions that Elvis starts off answering politely and eventually instructs Sonny to answer “no comment” to, on his behalf. 

“Goddamnit,” he hisses, as they finally get back into the car. He pulls the curtains so that no-one can see in through the windows and Sonny drives them this time. “I knew it’d be bad. Didn’t think it’d be that bad.”

Tegan feels a little overwhelmed herself but Elvis is her main concern. He’s gripping one of her hands tightly and sweat is running down his face as he mumbles about the paparazzi and the damn reporters. 

“It’s okay,” she whispers, rubbing a soothing hand up and down his thigh. 

He huffs air out of his nose like a furious bull. “None of their goddamn business. Any of it.”

“Shhhh. It’s okay. I’m okay. Don’t get upset.”

He abruptly lets go of her hand and springs back from her. “Don’t get upset!” He exclaims, eyes wide behind his sunglasses. “Don’t get upset! Goddamn.”

Tegan isn’t going to be put off that easily. “I just mean, don’t let them get to you like this. I don’t like to see you so upset.”

She rubs his arm now, in the same gentle but firm way. 

“Well it doesn’t matter what ya like, does it?” He spits. “I’m fucking upset.”

It’s Tegan’s turn to spring back now, eyes flaming. “Don’t fucking take it out on me!”

Sonny looks at the curtain in the rearview mirror, not that it reveals anything. He’d warned Elvis about going to the zoo in the middle of the day, but to be fair not even he had thought it would be this bad. Both of them were unused to the ferocity of the paparazzi, even in Memphis. He’s surprised that Tegan bit back though. He had thought of her as a little timid for some reason. 

They stare at one another for a while, both furious but neither able to decide the next move. Elvis can’t remember the last time a woman yelled at him and he’s shocked into silence, and Tegan is furious about the way he spoke to her, and isn’t about to back down. She didn’t like his tone just then and it was making her want to tell Sonny to pull the car over so she could get out. 

Eventually Elvis huffs loudly and turns away from her, staring straight ahead at the curtain, realises that it’s still closed and opens it with a grunt. Daylight pours into the back of the car and Tegan squints and looks around for her sunglasses. 

“Sorry,” Elvis mutters sheepishly, when he thinks she’s suitably occupied digging about in her handbag. 

She pauses, then looks over at him. “It’s okay.”

He takes a few steadying breaths and then looks at her properly. “Ya were right, I was takin’ it out on ya. Ya were only tryna calm me down.”

Sliding her sunglasses on, she looks over at him. “I know. You were being an arse.”

Sonny catches Elvis’ eye in the mirror and all three of them burst out laughing. Elvis doesn’t think anyone has ever called him an arse before, but he has to admire her for doing it. 

“Yer lucky I’m lettin’ ya get away with that,” he replies, winking behind his glasses. 

They drive back to Graceland, and Sonny and his wife join them for dinner. Tegan has met Sonny’s wife a couple of times and is getting to like her, and Judy is fond of the younger woman too. Her and Sonny had both remarked to each other, and Elvis himself, how much happier he seems lately, and Judy wants to make sure he stays that way almost as much as her husband does. They all watch a little TV together and play some cards, and Tegan is happy to spend some time with people who’ll actually drink with her. Although, as she watches Sonny finish off his fourth bourbon rocks, she wonders who is going to drive her home. 

Judy yawns delicately and then gives Sonny a sharp elbow in the side. He looks around a little slowly, his reactions dulled by all the bourbon. 

“Huh? Oh…” he looks over at Elvis and Tegan, who are cuddled up on the sofa at this point. “I uh… think we should be getting home.”

“Oh.” Elvis suddenly clocks that Sonny is drunk and he doesn’t know how he’s going to get Tegan home. “Yeah, sure. Thanks fer comin’.”

They get up and say their goodbyes, and once they’ve left Elvis turns to Tegan. “I spose I better drive ya, honey.”

She puts her hands on his shoulders and then slides them down over his chest. “Or… I could stay over?”

He can feel his face getting red thinking about her seeing him naked. It had been a very long time since a woman had seen him naked. 

“I…um…”

She starts to slowly unbutton his shirt, moving to press soft kisses to the skin she uncovers there. His chest hair is white like the hair on his head, and she’s seen it before underneath his gi. But she hasn’t ever got to touch it, and she can’t help running her fingers through it as she continues to unbutton his shirt. He feels like he’s completely frozen on the spot, just watching her as she carries on with her little touches and kisses until his shirt is hanging open. 

“Please?” She puts her head to one side and tries to look cute. 

His breathing is uneven as he stares down at her, still unable to formulate a response. She gently pushes his shirt off his shoulders and encourages his arms out of the sleeves. He stands in front of her, topless, watching as she presses yet more kisses up his arms and across his chest. His eyes flick uneasily down to his belly, which isn’t exactly small these days, but that gets kisses too, and gentle touches, and he can feel himself melting. 

“C’mon. Let’s go to bed.”

“Okay,” he finally replies, trying to get some of the upper hand back by sweeping her up into his arms and carrying her up the stairs.

She giggles, her arms around his neck, pleased at being literally swept off her feet. He manages to open the door to his bedroom without putting her down, and she stares around it in wonder, squinting into the darkness. 

“I’ll put a lamp on,” he mumbles, putting her down carefully and moving over to the side of the bed, flicking a switch. 

It doesn’t get much lighter in the room, but she can see the size of the bed which is almost unreal. She shivers a little. It’s not exactly warm; it seems like he has the AC on full blast. He looks over at her nervously, but she’s still occupied looking around, so he moves over to one of the sets of drawers and searches for some pyjamas. He’d be more comfortable in them and probably so would she. It takes him a few minutes to locate a couple of sets and when he turns back his mouth actually drops open looking at her. She’s standing there, completely naked, looking over at him. 

“H-honey… I… yer…” he can’t make the words come out of his mouth. He’s seen everything before but not all at once, and it’s kind of overwhelming. “Yer naked,” he finally manages. 

She giggles. “Yeah I know. This is how I sleep. And walk around the apartment sometimes too.”

His eyes somehow get even wider. “Ya walk around like that? I don’t think ya should…”

She shrugs and then rubs her arms with her hands, melodramatically. “I’m getting cold. Why don’t you come over here and warm me up?”

“Well if ya were wearin’ clothes…” he starts, but he’s walking towards her anyway, and she cuts him off with a kiss, pressing her naked body up against his. He moans into her mouth. Her skin feels so good against his, he can even feel those little metal bars in her nipples, a tiny touch of cold. His hand spreads across her back, pulling her in even closer, but somehow he doesn’t stop her wandering hands. One skates down his back but the other sneaks between them and before he can do anything, she’s squeezing his still soft dick. She barely reacts when she doesn’t find what she was expecting, but he almost leaps backwards like he’s been burnt. 

“Ah…uh… I’m s-sorry baby… it’s not you… I-I-I…”

“Hey. It’s okay,” she tries to reply but he darts off into the ensuite, pyjamas in hand. 

Tegan sits on the bed for a moment, looking at the closed door and wondering if he plans on hiding out in the bathroom all night. She supposes he won’t, but honestly she can’t tell. The coldness of the room persuades her under the covers, and she wonders what he’s going to say when he eventually comes back into the room again. She was only a little surprised to find him so soft when she touched him. It made sense really, when she thought back over the past few weeks that they’d been together. He never wanted her to return the favour when he gave her an orgasm, he was so awkward about the relationship in the first place, and he never wanted to let her take his clothes off. The look on his face after she’d touched him, the way he’d jumped away from her… it hurts her heart. She just wants to give him pleasure like he’s been giving her for all these weeks, but he seems so damaged about the whole thing. She frowns. It’s not as if he’s the first guy she’s been with who hasn’t been able to get it up sometimes. 

Elvis gets changed shakily, then stands in his pyjamas, gripping the sink with both hands and staring into the mirror. Stupid old man, he thinks. She’ll never be interested now she knows your dick doesn’t work. For a while he seriously considers sleeping on the bathroom floor, but then he realises he can’t get around going back into the bedroom and facing Tegan. He opens the door slowly, walking into the room almost sheepishly. 

“‘M sorry,” he mumbles. This is turning into a day of apologies. 

She pulls the covers back, exposing her naked body to him. He can’t help but look at it hungrily, despite what had just happened. “C’mere.” She pats the mattress next to her. 

“I hope you’re sorry about running off, not anything else?” She asks as he gets in cautiously. 

“Sure I disappointed ya.”

Lying on his back, unable to look at her. 

“I’m not disappointed,” she replies, curling her body around his. “I’ve been looking forward to waking up with you.”

“Thought ya might’ve wanted somethin’ else,” he mutters. 

Her hand rubs his chest, then moves to his belly. She feels him tense and starts to kiss his neck as her hand keeps touching him. 

“I want to make you feel good, ‘raur. I’m not in a rush to do anything else.”

He sighs. “Don’t think that’s really possible.”

“Sure you’re not just out of practice?”

Elvis groans and closes his eyes, willing the conversation away. This is not something he wants to be talking about with anyone, let alone a girl twenty years his junior. 

“Jus’ leave it.”

Tegan doesn’t really want to just leave it, she wants to understand it and find a way to fix it. But Elvis clearly isn’t in the headspace for that kind of conversation right now, so she decides to try a different tack. 

“God, you smell so good.” Burying her face in his chest, she breathes him in. 

He can’t help his lips curling into a half-smile. “Really, Queenie?”

She flicks the top button of his pyjamas open and presses kisses to the exposed skin there, her hand running over his nipple through the shirt. 

“You haven’t called me that in a while. And yes, really.”

He hums with pleasure, his hand running through her hair as she keeps kissing and praising him. 

“You’re so strong, it’s so sexy.”

“Huh?” He’s blushing a little but he doesn’t want her to stop. 

“Carrying me up the stairs.” She looks up at him as she deftly undoes another button. “Very sexy.”

He feels her hand inside his shirt now, rubbing and touching. She pinches a nipple between her thumb and forefinger and gets a low moan in response. 

“Q-Queenie…”

“I can’t believe how gorgeous you are.” 

She quickly undoes all of the rest of the buttons, and for the second time that evening his shirt is hanging open and her hands and mouth are all over his torso. He lets out a soft sigh and when her hand moves down under the waistband of his pyjama bottoms he doesn’t stop it. She slowly slides his foreskin back and forth, squeezing a little and feeling him start to respond. Her mouth and other hand continue their ministrations on his belly and chest, hoping to distract him from worrying about what his dick might be doing. She feels him getting harder and pushes his pants down so she can get at him more easily, sliding her mouth over the head and giving him little kitten licks. He moans, looking down at her for a moment and then looking away, disgusted by his own body again. His erection starts to fade and he screws his eyes shut and huffs in frustration. She tries to stimulate him for a little longer, but it’s clear it’s not coming back, so she stops, pulling his pyjama bottoms up carefully and leaning her head back on his chest. 

He can’t speak. He doesn’t know whether not being able to get it up at all, or having half an erection that went away when he thought about it too much was worse. Both things were horribly embarrassing, and he can only imagine she’ll leave at the first opportunity, and not want to see him again. 

“We should sleep,” he says, turning over and dislodging her. 

He switches the light off and she stares, confused, into the dark from her position on her back. 

“We can try again in the morning,” she suggests, quietly. 

“Hmmm.”

She still wants to push it, but she knows she shouldn’t. This is too delicate. She wishes she could tell him that she doesn’t care, even if he never gets another erection she’d still want him more than she’s ever wanted anyone, but that seems too much. The intensity of her feelings for him seems like too much, considering how long they’ve known one another. She hasn’t told anyone how she feels; she’s convinced Maria would try and get her committed if she knew. She rolls onto her other side and tries to get to sleep. They can try again in the morning. 

***

Neither of them sleep that well. Even though the bed is huge, they’ve both got used to sleeping on their own and someone else being there is disturbing. Elvis sleeps particularly badly, unable to stop himself wondering what Tegan must think and whether she’ll ever want to see him again. He looks at her as she lies there, peacefully, and wonders what on earth she’s doing in his bed. She could do a lot better. 

“Oh, hi there, gorgeous,” she murmurs as she opens her eyes and sees him leaning over, looking at her. 

He carefully moves her hair out of her eyes. “Mornin’ beautiful.”

Her face breaks into a smile. “Mmmmm. Come here.” Pulling his face towards hers, kissing him deeply. 

He shifts, rolling on top of her and relishing the feeling of her hands underneath his unbuttoned shirt, running up and down his back. She lets one trail a little lower, grabbing a handful of his ass and pushing her hips up into his. He can feel himself getting harder, his dick is always a little more cooperative in the morning and something about her body and his drowsy state is turning him on. The thoughts that had plagued him during the night drift away and his head feels pleasantly empty. He finds himself starting to kiss and nip at her neck as she pushes his pyjama bottoms down, feeling him now too. She moves her legs to wrap them around his waist, and as his dick rubs against her pussy she feels delicious pleasure building between her legs. Drowsy too and not caring how she gets there, she moans softly at the feeling. He closes his eyes for a moment, enjoying rolling his hips against her, feeling like a teenager again. But he wants more. Moving back a little, he lines himself up with her entrance, teasing her with the tip before starting to push inside. 

But it’s not just Elvis who hasn’t done this in a long time, and Tegan almost yelps at the intrusion. She’s tight at the best of times, and with no warm up and no lube it’s almost impossible. 

“Oh!” She cries out, shifting back from him instinctively. 

The moment it happens, his erection fades. 

“Fuck,” he mutters. 

“Elvis, I’m sorry…” she begins, but he just covers himself up again and rolls off her and then out of the bed. 

“Ya want breakfast? Mary’ll make ya eggs. Or… whatever ya want. Come down when yer ready.”

She stares as he takes a robe off the door and wraps it around himself and then just walks out of the room. She feels humiliated and confused. Okay, yeah, he’d gone soft. Embarrassing. But she’d been too small for him, or too tight, or not turned on enough… she gets up slowly, putting on her clothes from the day before. She wouldn’t have minded if he’d stayed in bed and held her for a while. In fact, she’d have liked it. She wishes that’s what he’d done, rather than leaving her like this. Checking her hair in the bathroom mirror, she sighs at her reflection. Maybe if she was more attractive this would all have been easier. 

Walking slowly down the stairs, she looks around again. So opulent. But so quiet. So lonely. When she gets to the kitchen she finds Elvis staring at the Sunday papers. 

Has-been Presley dating woman half his age.

The headline is big, and as she gets nearer she can see a lot of unflattering photos of both of them. Then she sees some of the text of the article. 

Washed up King of Rock n Roll, Elvis Presley, was seen today at Memphis Zoo with a woman young enough to be his daughter. A far cry from the attractive starlets he used to be seen with, the unknown female is hardly a looker.

“Oh wow,” Tegan says, quietly. It’s one thing to know you’re not Helen of Troy, and it’s another thing to see it written there in black and white. 

Elvis had been staring at the paper for a while now, and every so often some of the words had gone in. He knew there would be a nasty story about them, but he’s unused to the reality of it after so long. And he didn’t expect them to be quite this cruel about Tegan. Hearing her voice he’s suddenly spurred into action, tearing out the pages and screwing them up, hurling them across the room. 

“Fucking assholes,” he shouts. 

She puts a hand on his arm. “Elvis, it’s okay.” She doesn’t even really believe herself at this point, after everything that’s already happened this morning, but she feels she has to say something.

“The things they wrote about ya… it’s my fault.” He turns to her and shakes his head sorrowfully. “Ya better go.”

“What?”

“Ya better go. I’m no good for ya. Jus’ go.”

“You don’t really mean that.”

“I do.”

Tegan tries begging and pleading with him, tries rationalising the situation, tries to ask why and persuade him to talk. But none of it works. He just keeps repeating that she ought to go and she’d be better off without him. It's like he's shut down completely. Despite his previous pronouncement that cabs don’t come to Graceland, he calls her one and sends her off in it. He won’t even kiss her goodbye. She sits there on the backseat trying to figure out exactly what the fuck had just happened, how she’d gone from him rutting against her in the bed one minute to throwing her out the next. And then she gets home and just cries. And cries. And wonders how the fuck she’s going to get her life back.

***

Part 6

Taglist:

@vintagepresley @arg-xoxo @from-memphis-with-love @msamarican @blursedblegh @returntopresley @eapep @everythingelvispresley @i-r-i-n-a-a @sissylittlefeather @arrolyn1114 @jhoneybees @cattcb @polksaladava @lookingforrainbows @jkdaddy01 @ccab @epthedream69 @lustnhim @elvisslut @pomtherine @that-hotdog @ladelinee @angschrof @fairybloodsucker @deltafalax @makethemorning @elviswhore69 @ilovequeen978 @wildhorseinkansas @pocketfulofpresley @dkayfixates @iloveelvisss

[dimosar]

Sheev's Plan:

get elected to senate for naboo

start new sith order

work republic and separatists against each other. recruit evil guy to lead separatists.

(this jedi kid is wicked strong!)

get jedi in deep with clone army. (save some clone jars for later? just in case...)

PIVOT: Make the jedi kid evil. dont need separatist guy anymore. got a new evil guy.

make my evil guy kill his jedi pals when they come to arrest me. ill finish em off with my lightning attack

(fucking guy used his sword to bounce my lightning back at me! honestly my fault. takes a minute for the lightning to wind down and he got my ass on the bounce. fair play. now i look like a leather couch but its fine. can blame jedi for THAT too)

Use the clones to kill the jedi, have my evil guy kill the seperatists, keep the army, spin into empire

GALAXY NOW UNDER MY CONTROL

chill as emperor for a while. humiliate Vader for a laugh. make death star.

Endgame achieved.

(Vader's kid blows up my death star)

PIVOT: get new young apprentice by turning him evil once he kills his dad, or maybe make Vader cooler by making him kill his gay son. either way its a win-win for me.

(thrown down hole and killed.)

PIVOT: good thing i kept those clone jars!! make new clone body to inhabit. takes time to get right. need something to do until then

build enormous fleet of big spaceships, each with their own super death star laser. keep em on the down low... why use em? they lose half the value as soon as you fly them off the lot

(clone son runs away but its no biggie. its fine. have loads of clones at this point. whats one clone son?)

create a DECOY fascist empire. put one of my weirder clones in charge. Not giving them any of my ships though. can build his own shit. dont look at me. get a bank loan

let failed clone recruit vaders grandson (will explain why later)

LET those guys take over the galaxy with a different super death star. assume they built this one themselves. very cute!

GALAXY NOW UNDER MY CONTROL (only via proxy tho. not done yet)

let(??) vaders grandson ("ben"?? ok) usurp failed clone and rule galaxy. wants to “kill the past” but whatever. can still make this work. NEED to keep this kid in the mix (will make sense when we get there)

drop the big news. Im not dead! Fortnite. awesome moment.

lead kylo ren to my base using complex scavenger hunt. puzzle knife.

tell him he’s always actually worked for me. big reveal. big moment. He's my lackey now. a little traitorous and unreliable, but this will pay off later trust me

use death star ships to take over galaxy even more

GALAXY NOW UNDER MY CONTROL (awesome... but not enough. something missing)

let kylo ren lead clone granddaughter to home base using complex scavenger hunt (?)

taunt her into killing me so i can possess her un-janked body.

Endgame achieved. (??)

(kylo ren betrays me)

PIVOT: Possession stupid plan anyway. Instead, use ben and reys Horny Essence to make my nasty old body normal again…might as well pimp my robes out a bit while im at it...i deserve a treat

throw ben in hole (grandson purpose revealed)

destroy resistance with lightning powers. shooting spaceships down with magic lightning basically a solved problem at this point.

GALAXY NOW UNDER MY CONTROL

kill the granddaughter actually. dont need her anymore. lightning powers classic for a reason. ive got this thing in the bag as long as she doesn't bounce the lightning back at me off her fucking laser sword

Endgame achieved.

[shizunitis]

Luo Binghe & Tianlang-Jun: Origins. And a Bit of Projection.

Disclaimer: This is basically just a collection of quotes from The Scum Villain's Self-Saving System, Volume 3, accompanied by (adjective) thoughts, and then even more relevant quotes listed at the end. If I could, I’d paste the entirety of Chapter 18.

“As expected, I can’t bring myself to hate humans.” — Vol. 3, Chapter 21: Always Together

I will always be conflicted on the topic of Tianlang-jun, and it annoys me. There is so much I could say about him, and so little I can successfully articulate. He is, to me, more confounding, complex and tragic than Shen Jiu.

He’s pitiful and awe-inspiring, wicked and affable, cunning and wide-eyed in his curiousity. He is a compelling, heartbreaking character. He alternates between emotionless wisdom and mournful apathy. I admire how his knees don’t buckle under the weight of his grief, but how he crumbles at the barest hint of hope. How rage claws at him and, still, he can’t figure out how to make it stick.

I empathise with him. I understand him.

But then, in the distance, Luo Binghe's indifferent voice disturbs the silence, causing me to drop my drink onto the floor and this post onto your screen:

“He’s not my father.”

It’s an interesting exercise, exploring their relationship in reconciliation fics. To see them interact (semi-)honestly, watch them take turns filling up the chasm between them. It’s wonderful. Every fic I’ve read centred around them was a delightful read that I still think about.

However. I cannot see Tianlang-Jun, as I understand him, as Luo Binghe’s father. And not just because of the 3rd Novel’s events.

But because Binghe had hoped for something; he did have that wide-eyed wonder. He did hold one last window open, for the sake of an improbability he couldn’t quite, just yet, dismiss.

It’s what (most) orphaned and/or adopted childred do.

Though Luo Binghe had never said a word about it before, Shen Qingqiu knew that he harbored some fantasies about his birth parents. […] In fact, he’d always secretly fantasized about whether his parents might still be alive, and how well they’d treat him, and how they’d never let him suffer the mildest slight. — Vol. 3, Chapter 17: Tianlang

It is the most human thing; to want to be helped, accepted, invited by those given to you. A family is given to you. Whether you believe it an act of the divine, of nature, of coincidence, it isn’t something you fight for. It’s the first and, arguably, only thing you don’t have to fight for in life.

Depending on a multitude of factors, that can be a blessing or a curse; but where there is room for interpretation, questions left unanswered, most childred—Binghe included—will turn to their imagination, and try to make sense of it. Usually, to comfort themselves, to reassure themselves that surely, if their family could, they would have.

And, yeah. Most likely, if the Palace Master had gotten punted into the Sun like he fucking deserved, they would have. But does it matter?

In the face of a bleak reality, what comfort is a could-have-been?

He liked to call Luo Binghe “that son of mine,” but he didn’t seem to possess any concept of fatherly affection. […] Luo Binghe was in fact…someone who was unloved by even his own parents. — Vol. 3, Chapter 15: Holy Mausoleum

What use are good intentions to an abandoned child? What consolation is it, to say, They gave birth to you, when that child has seen no evidence of their care? Does it dry their tears, that their mother can’t be here, but she surely would have wished to be? That their father would protect them, if only he knew of them?

(And don’t make me tell you about the visceral horror I felt reading the Origins chapter. I’ve yet to make my peace with it. MXTX, Airplane, whoever: you’ve ruined me.)

The washerwoman was and continues to be, to Binghe, his only mother. And I would argue, that’s healthy. Even independent of his other traumas (Abyss, Shizun’s betrayal, Xin Mo’s influence, living on the streets, etc, holy shit Binghe) Luo Binghe will not accept anyone else as his mother.

“Who is this Su Xiyan?” Luo Binghe asked coldly. “My mother was a mere washerwoman.” — Vol. 3, Chapter 18: Origins.

It may seem callous. It probably even is! But it is a healthy line he’d drawn by his own initiative. It’s what helps him, what he feels he needs to do in order to do right by his mother, and his own heart.

And! Tianlang-Jun doesn’t seem to give much of a shit, either!

Won’t, probably, even in the future, once the dust will have settled. He is exhausted, weary with carrying the corpse of his love, the loss of his nephew. Whatever goodwill he shows, it’s a perfunctory sort, because he can’t afford more.

So. Uhh.

Tianlang-Jun is not a character I can love, nor one I can hate. Usually, I can’t help but be inclined to love complex characters. Like them, too—though that’s more of an action-based thing rather than just said character’s personality.

But with Tianlang-Jun, I’m stuck whichever way I turn. If I want to love/like him, I’m drawn back by Binghe’s pain and disappointment. If I try to hate/dislike him, I’m drawn back by his own history and grief.

In conclusion:

I don't know! I'm not really trying to, like, prove anything. I still love the aforementioned TLJ & LBH fics, I still love their dynamic. I started walking and ended up exactly in the same space. This, perhaps, could be considered a Heavenly Demon Family Mobius Strip!

I'm not really trying to say anything. It just… makes me feel conflicted, and angry, and whenever I allow myself to think about it a bit more, sad.

But.

However!

Alas.

Nonetheless, even.

As a reader and—on my better days—a writer, all I can say is:

As promised/threatened: some selected passages, for your reading pleasure:

So, it looked like neither the father nor the cousin had any intention of acknowledging Luo Binghe. — Chapter 15: Holy Mausoleum

He liked to call Luo Binghe “that son of mine,” but he didn’t seem to possess any concept of fatherly affection. — Chapter 15: Holy Mausoleum

Tianlang-Jun lifted his hand, took a look at Luo Binghe’s snow-pale face, and commented indifferently, “He looks like his mother.” “His eyes look like yours,” came a chill voice from the side. — Chapter 15: Holy Mausoleum

The faint hopes and dreams Luo Binghe had held in his heart for many years had been mercilessly pulverized into so much dust. […] [Tianlang-Jun] refused to speak a single word of their relationship and had been utterly ruthless back in the Holy Mausoleum. […] To his parents, Luo Binghe was an unwanted child. — Chapter 18: Origins

“If he was my father, why didn’t he bring it up earlier? Why not tell me?” The most Tianlang-Jun had said was that single line he offered while beating up Luo Binghe, devoid of either praise or criticism: “He looks like his mother.” He looks like his mother. What of it? But that was all. There was nothing more. — Chapter 18: Origins

Luo Binghe was indifferent. “He’s not my father.” […] Luo Binghe shook his head. It was unclear what he was stubbornly clinging to, but he repeated, “He’s not my father.” — Chapter 18: Origins

Luo Binghe raised his smiling face, his eyes shining brightly. “Mother was the kindest person in all the world to me.” — Chapter 19: Shen Jiu

[arahusk]

Husk patted down his pockets, hoping for a miracle. Maybe an overlooked bill here, an upturned coin there, but they were as empty as his stomach. The realization was painful, but expected.

Broke as fuck when all he wanted was to go play some slots after a day of slow bartending. His brain was too muddled for something more complex than pulling a lever, like cards or even craps.

Then a paper bill appeared before his face, and only later did he see it attached to a familiar hand--as sharp and wicked as a fish hook.

"Here you go, Husker! I'm sure it must be quite difficult to be a professional deadbeat."

A waggle of the bill, along with the dreaded hiss of that static. Husk at least had enough dignity to wave the hand away.

"Oh fuck off. I don't need your money," he said, as he eyed that same money held in Alastor's hand.

"Now are you sure?" Alastor needled. "Or are you doing the unthinkable and actually used what little money you had to pay off your debts..?"

"Don't start pulling this shit with me." Husk tried pushing Alastor away then, his voice becoming slurred. Of course he had drank too much earlier, but it was one of the few reprieves he was allowed during the day. They would never run out of drinks with their single-digit number of guests. So a few long sips of whiskey was there to make it bearable, and there to make it so he could never think too clearly about where he was.

Still, the buzz was kicking in way too quick. He didn't want his boss to see him at his worst again. It was more than embarrassing, and already Alastor's smile was cutting through his chest like a rusty knife. "Just leave me alone! I don't need you to act like some kind of..."

He trailed off, not even knowing what he meant. But then Alastor leaned down. The coveted money had vanished, and so he pressed a finger against Husk's chest. "Go on."

"I don't have to say anything. I'm done."

"Oh, Husker. Always so shy." Alastor leaned in further, his mouth just brushing against Husk's sensitive ear. "I'll be your sugar daddy if you want."

Husk nearly tripped, reaching out to grip a nearby stool. The wooden legs clattered with his own. It was by sheer luck he didn't fall.

The bill appeared again between Alastor's fingers. "And I can spoil you, once in a while."

He let the bill go, fluttering in the air. Husk reflexively caught it, all while his claws dug grooves into the stool. "Shut up." But the snarl lacked any sort of spark.

There was no way he just got hard from that.

He was half-turned away, hoping whatever sudden heat would finally let him go. Because there was no way this was actually affecting him. He was too drunk. Or too sleep-deprived.

Alastor continued being near, eyes roving all over him, his hand still so close to Husk's face, as if he would reach out and caress him. It was unbearable, and Husk thought for sure the demon was about to kiss him with those sharp teeth, with that hot mouth laden with noise and filtered music, before he suddenly sensed an empty space between them.

With a grin, Alastor balanced his cane between dexterous before sauntering off. "Don't spend it all in one place! Ha, oh but that's silly. Of course you will!"

Once he was gone, Husk finally got a chance to breathe again. But when he looked down, he found his little...mishap was still taking its sweet time going down.

He crumpled the bill in his hand, shoving it into a pocket. Just another cost of his dignity, one bill at a time.

[evilfloralfoolery]

Cold Courtly Weather Sucks - Part 1

Just some courtly bullshit between Grimm and Indigo. Grimm is recovering from a cold and it's also cold outside. What a goddamn shame. That's it. That's the plot. ____________________

“How the hell do I put this thing on?” 

Grimm holds up the alleged “belt” and flicks a strap with one finger.

“Well, Grimm.” Indigo leans against the door jamb with the most smartassy smirk ever.  “That is what one would call ‘a belt,’ you see. I believe you put it around your waist.”

“Goddamn it, Indy.” 

His partner takes the thing and straps him into it.  Like, literally. Puts it around his waist, pulls the straps all kinds of ways, laces some shit up, and slaps his ass for good measure.  

“Feels like a fucking corset,” Grimm says.

“It is a modified obi belt for weaponry,” Indigo informs him.  Like he’s supposed to know what the fuck that is.

Grimm pinches the space between his eyebrows with a heavy sigh.  “Can’t believe we have to get all dressed up for some fifteen minute bullshit.” 

“The rules at High Court are certainly an annoyance,” Indigo says.  He eyes Grimm with a sidelong, assessing look.  “How are you feeling?”

“Okay-ish.” Grimm glances outside at the frozen fountain and the icicles dripping in suspended animation from the eaves of various structures.  Just looking at it makes him sniffle and wince. “Don’t really wanna stand in that.” 

“It is only for a short time,” Indigo assures him.  “Shall we put it behind us, then?”

“Yeah, yeah.”  Grimm drapes the heavy cowl of his cape over his shoulders and pins it into place.  

The walk to the courtyard is stupidly long and complex, walking down this hallway, greeting this person, walking somewhere else, talking to some other dude.  Why there isn’t a door in sight is a fucking mystery. 

And it’s not like Indigo’s father has stepped into the modern age, either.  Sure, there are fireplaces all over the damn place, but nothing works like central heat.  

Ye Olde Medieval Bullshit is so not his thing.

And neither is this hot-to-cold and back again business because the temperature of each passage drastically fluctuates.

Grimm presses the back of his hand against his nose with a cringe.  Dammit, why the hell did his sinuses always choose the most inopportune time for this crap?

Indigo squeezes his free hand and Grimm shoots him his best sorry-I’m-about-to-be-a-fucking-disaster look.  Because there isn't a damn thing he can do to stop it, not with a lethal combination of cold weather and still recovering from an actual cold.

He clamps his palm over his mouth and nose with hardly a second to spare. “Hhhhuh. . .! Uh’CHISSH! UHSSSCH!”

Oh, goddamn it. 

“Bless you,” Indigo says in what is trying to be a detached tone, but sounds like all kinds of sexed-up concern.

Heh. That's worthy of a chuckle. 

“Better save that,” Grimm says. Or rather, half-stammers. 

Motherfu–

“Uhh’CHISSSSH! Hkg’SSCCH! UHH-CHISSSCHU! Fuuuuck. . .”

“Indeed,” Indigo says before he can catch himself, which is more than a little hilarious. “Are you quite finished?”

Grimm’s smirk is a wicked rendition of something bordering on obscene. “Maybe.” 

“Gods.” Indigo rolls his eyes in that false exasperation that is more habit than anything else. “Bless you. Although perhaps I should not bother.”

The smirk broadens into a grin. “You can’t help yourself.”

Cold arcs through his arm like frozen static electricity, but Grimm doesn’t so much as flinch. “You’re gonna make it worse, if you make me colder with that freezing fire shit.”

“Honestly, Grimm. . .” 

"You started it, Indy."

Indigo cuts the playful banter and casts him a serious look, slowing their progress down the next stupidly long corridor. 

“Grimm.”  He stops mid-stride and clasps both of Grimm’s hands within his own.  “Please mind your vocabulary in the presence of the courtiers. They are . . .” 

“Uptight assholes?” Grimm finishes and Indigo chuckles.

“Well, yes.  But they are still my people and I must dignify their stations with the same respect that is afforded to me.” 

Grimm loosens their shared grip, hands coming to rest upon Indigo’s shoulders.  Goddamn, he’s pretty, especially in his courtly getup of that fancy teal tunic embossed with silver thread.  Every strand of hair is combed into thick perfection, the profusion of waves framing his face like an ornate tapestry.  Even the pale smoothness of his skin somehow coordinates with it all, complete with his blue-green eyes that are now regarding him with such pleading sincerity, Grimm’s teasing softens into immediate seriousness. 

“You worry too much, Indy.” Grimm brushes a lock of Indigo’s hair behind his ear. “I understand protocol.”  

“I . . . I realize that you understand this on a professional level, but-”

Grimm silences him with a kiss, smiling against the other man’s mouth when Indigo’s entire body yields to his advance, becoming pliant and relaxed within his embrace.

“Don’t worry about it, Lord Solaris. I can handle myself and your asshole courtiers.” 

Indigo huffs and shakes his head. “I despise that you must call me by my proper title.”

Grimm tilts his head. “Mmmn, I dunno. It's kind of hot.”

“Absolutely not.” Indigo curls his lip with such proper disgust, Grimm laughs far louder than he should in the echo chamber of a hallway.

He offers his arm like a proper escort and Indigo loops his own around it, hand settling atop the leather forearm bracer. 

“W-waithhhhuh!” Grimm grinds a curled fist against one side of his nose with a clenched expression that doesn't do a goddamn thing to stop what's coming. “. . . huuuh–CHISSSHu! Hhh–UHSSSSH!” 

Way more forceful than he'd anticipated. His entire body does the traveling shudder thing and he manages to half-silence a third sneeze into quieter submission by muffling it into his palm. Not exactly ideal, considering the bracers end in fingerless gloves.

“Excuse me,” he says out of practiced habit.

Which does some shit to Indigo, given the look he's adopted, which is something between heated appreciation and his usual worry over nothing.

“Bless you, my Shield,” Indigo says.

Grimm has to admit that the title still tickles him. “Thank you, my Lord.”

Indigo's soft sound of derision is amusing as hell, too.

A handkerchief finds its way into his hand and Grimm unfolds the thing, pausing to give it a once over. “Black?”

“Well, it is the proper Guardian color,” Indigo says.

“Uh huh.” Grimm wipes at his nose with one corner of the cloth before tucking it into the space between his sleeve and the leather bracer. 

Indigo's grip on his arm has gone from properly resting to flat out clutching and Grimm pats his wrist. “Might wanna ease up on the claw there.”

“Oh? Oh! My goodness, I did not even realize I was. . .” Indigo's voice trails off and he groans in the most un-Lord-like way possible. “Gods, how I long to be back in the comfort of the city.” 

“Soon,” Grimm assures him. “Now, come on. Let me walk you around the damn courtyard all proper and shit.”

(TBC)

[hopeswriting]

Top KHR fanfics

hi nonny, thank you for the ask!

okay so i obviously haven't read all the khr fics out there, so this will be by no means an exhaustive list. but from the ones i've read? *crack knuckles* let's go through my bookmarks in no particular order!

also adding this after i finished answering the ask, but this just ended up being a list of arco fics and/or tsuna fics (+ the 10th gen and/or reborn). but like. are we surprised zfsdfdsf.

on ao3:

flip a coin [head for villain, tail for hero] by petroltogo

Superhero/Supervillain AU: All Sawada Tsunayoshi wants to do is help people. Considering his occupation as a Vongola Inc. superhero, you'd think that wouldn't be much of a problem. You'd be wrong. [Of course 'people' isn't supposed to include wanted supervillains. But it's hardly Tsuna's fault that the training manual doesn't specify that, is it.] Along the way, he learns to help himself.

this series is just so, so good! all the works in it are simply *chef's kiss*. the worldbuilding is amazing, the characters so in character and complex and with so many layers and depth to them. also it's obviously planned down to the last detail, so it's incredibly fun to follow along and try to piece the puzzle along with the various characters' pov.

The Boy in the Ice by eloquentelegance

A mysterious pillar of ice drops out of the sky and fuses with the grounds of Yuuei. It's not the strangest thing to happen, especially for this school. But the boy, frozen within, is strange - yes, very strange indeed.

haven't read chapter 2 yet, but i have no doubt it won't disappoint whenever i'll be able to get to it. as for chapter 1? a fucking masterpiece. it's a khr x bnha crossover, and i don't usually read crossover, but boy, am i glad this is one of the few i gave a chance to haha.

Yugen by Little_Miss_Bunny

In one world, Tsuna sacrificed his life to save the Arcobaleno. As soon as he drew his last breath, he opened his eyes again to see beaten students cowering in front of him and a bloody hammer in his hand.

it's been a while since i've reread this one, but i still have the reaction of "oh, this one was so, so good!!" whenever i come across it lol, so yeah. what i do remember is i absolutely love the depiction of hibari in this one as well as his dynamic with tsuna. also little miss bunny is one of my favorite khr writers, they're so good at crafting the different aus they come up with and making them feel real while still keeping the characters in character, i love it.

Target Acquired: Wicked Jester by poorasdirt

Colonnello has always been a military man. He understood what led to him being cursed. He understood why the others had been cursed. Or, well, why most of the others had been cursed. Skull's motivations had always been a mystery to him. Now that the curse had been lifted, Colonnello could finally sit back and try to puzzle it out. If only it were that easy. Or Colonnello's instincts were telling him something wasn't right and curiosity only kills cats.

i know for a fact i've already recc this one before, and i'm doing it again because it's just that good. <3 it's another one heavy on worldbuilding, which is funny because usually worldbuilding isn't exactly my thing, but how can i say no to them when they're all so well written like this. anyway it's a skull-centric fic through nello's pov, so of course i was all for it zfsegfdsds.

Starstruck by Little_Miss_Bunny

All Tsuna wanted was his siblings to be happy. So, he didn't see a problem attending a fan signing for one of the hottest bands to date, even if he had no clue who they were. He did start seeing a problem when more idols started appearing in his life. It got even worse when they just wouldn't leave him alone.

i love this one so, soo much! this is my favorite work of theirs. it's currently at 153k words tho, so not too sure how to summarize it lol, but just trust me on this one! it's more on the lighthearted one compared to their other works, tho still touch on serious stuff and do it well, but i'd still consider it a comfort (and funny) fic.

Scorching Ember by Little_Miss_Bunny

When the revered Sky Priestess suddenly passes away, everyone mourns. However, the world is soon engulfed by darkness, giving rise to creatures that seemed to only exist in folktales. With the gods mysteriously absent, there is no one to keep everything from descending into ruins—until a hunter finds a curious object in a barren creek.

another one from little miss bunny that i love so much!! maybe or maybe not because nello is the first arco to appear, so there's certainly no shortage of nello & tsuna interactions. more seriously tho zrfsdfds, this is another one where the worldbuilding has obviously been given a lot of care, and the characters are written so well, tsuna first of all, and it's just super fun to read.

Forever Family, Forever Vongola by AnimationNut

They're a group of insane, energetic, destructive and hyper people. But they also love each other, whether some are willing to admit it or not. Family sticks together, through thick, thin, and crazy.

the ultimate platonic/familial khr fic! with how many chapters it already has (57 for 195k words), you're bound to find more than one you'll love. some are connected, most are not. some are lighthearted fluff, some more on the heavy, serious side of things. but all chapters are written so well, and at their cores it's all about how much these guys love each other.

The Hottest of Flames can Melt the Strongest of Chains by Luki (KelpieCodyne)

I'm not a liar, but I close my eyes a lot by Seito

another incredible series that is just so, soo good! it's about tsuna not wanting to become vongola decimo and doing what he can so it won't happen. no happy endings yet, but the series isn't marked complete yet either, so we'll see.

It started with bang. A bullet casing falling to the ground; the clatter echoing off the walls. It started with Tsuna putting a bullet through the head of his enemy, unflinchingly. Blood spattered, flying, rolling down Tsuna's cheek. Brown eyes burn with orange fire, yet so, so, so cold. In another world, Reborn would have smiled. In this world, Reborn flinched.

i haven't reread this one in a long while, so i honestly... don't quite remember how it goes zqdsfds, but i still remember it was an amazing read all the same!! i mean, the summary alone is so good? also this writer is one of the best in the fandom imo, so yeah.

ozymandias was a punkass bitch (but he had the right idea) by Seito

“You want Vongola? You can have it,” Tsuna says serenely.

loved this one too! badass tsuna is always a treat, and i always love to see it.

last to fade by Trilies

Mammon's last breath is of rain and gunpowder. Before they make their choice, they consider lives lost and the options they have. There's not a lot. Set during the Millefiore timeline.

a look at what mammon's last moment could have been like. super well-written.

Striking Once by istilllikekhr

A peek into the universe where Nana Sawada was given the Lightning Mare Ring.

this one has an unsual pairing (byakuran & nana), but you'll be missing out if you don't give it a chance because of it. i also didn't have a clue what to expect when i first clicked on it, but when i tell you it did not disappoint. and the ending? oughhh. please give this a chance!

Sunny Skies Ahead by Ourliazo

Reborn is not yet the world's greatest hitman, not quite a proper Sky, and definitely doesn't want these ridiculous Guardians that he keeps running into.

sky arco reborn who does not want to be the sky arco? it's just as chaotic and funny as you might think zqefdddsf. the interactions in this are absolute gold, and it's just such a fun ride to see all the bonding happen despite reborn's best efforts lmao. also ourliazo is another one of my favorite khr writers. the way they write the arco and tsuna (and every other khr characters tbh)? absolute peak. and then you add their humor, and i will simply never be tired of their writing.

Sincerely, Scattered Shards by You_Light_The_Sky

Tsuna’s the foolish type to give a bit of his heart to anyone he meets. No one ever wanted his ugly heart shards until he met his Guardians. No one ever treasured his heart shards until them either. Hints of All27 and R27.

heartbreaking and heartwarming all at once. i actually had forgotten i had this one in my bookmarks, as well as the fic as a whole tbh 😅, but it all instantly came back to me like a punch in the gut. there's so much love in this one guys. the kind that hurts and the kind that heals and the kind that makes it all worth it in the end.

Forgotten Memories of a Broken Soldier by Maintenant

The Arcobaleno arrive at their collective house after their yearly meeting turned mission. Skull had been left there to cook them a warm meal for their return, seeing as he is useless in a mission, but it is not Skull they find when they return. Rather, it is, but it is not. For this Skull has cold eyes and harsher threats, and he doesn't know the rest of the Arcobaleno. Perhaps more importantly, the Arcobaleno find, is that they don't know Skull.

i love this one for the ending and the build up to it. it's a wip, but the first chapter can be read as a one shot (imo) so it works well. it's a skull is harry potter fic, and like i already said i don't usually read crossover fics, but this is another one i'm glad i gave a chance to.

Never Will Forget by Squoxie

Tell the ones, the ones I loved I never will forget

a song fic about skull surviving the rest of the arco. the summary alone always pulls at my heartstrings whenever i read it.

Beginnings And Middles But No Ends In Sight by Ourliazo

A compilation of the various chaotic missions that the Arcobaleno take on pre-curse - as well as the many dumb things they throw themselves into even without being paid for it. [Fon tries to trap a cockroach with a tissue, but it runs up his sleeve. Reborn watches as Fon flips his shit, rips off his sleeve, and punches the cockroach to death. Reborn is still laughing by the time Fon comes back from disposing of the corpse and washing his hands. "Thank you," Fon says pointedly, rather upset by the entire experience. Reborn is crying.]

this is the daily life arc - arco version fic as i like to call it. an absolute fucking ride as you can imagine. love it to fucking bits.

don't look at the child underneath the floorboards by Kosaji

Happiness is based on a just discrimination of what is necessary, what is neither necessary nor destructive, and what is destructive. - The Ones Who Walk Away From Omelas Ursula K. Le Guin In which truths are realized and a choice is made.

the one where tsuna is freed from vongola thanks to his guardians. love it a lot.

Those Last Few Memories by Ourliazo

In one future, the Arcobaleno band together and try to fight off the Anti Tri-ni-set radiation.

the way my heart squeezes whenever i think of this fic. so heartbreaking and so well written. and the ending? oughhh. you just have to read this one!

on ff.net:

Rage Vs Hope By: ariathal2410

The order was to kill anything that moved, the city was too far gone to hope for survivors. But if there was one thing Colonnello didn't sign up for, it was killing kids. (28 Weeks Later AU, eventually merges into a semi-au) eventual all27?

zombies au that is both nello and tsuna centric! alternate between both their povs too. there's other canonical characters as well as ocs, but they're written well and enjoyable to read about too.

How to Survive the Fae By: MikeLamp

As the trees around them collapse, Tsuna's eyes don't stray from the human trembling before him, "So tell me," he hisses, eyes glowing, "where is your King now?" She whimpers instead of answering. In a world where the fae haunt the overgrown forests and angels control the cities with an iron fist, Tsuna doesn't want to just survive anymore.

another fantasy au that still manages to keep the characters true to themselves and is super well written. it's arco27 (seems to be anyway), with skull and who is likely fon in the last chapter being the only arco who appeared so far. and the skull & tsuna interactions in this? *chef's kiss* i love them.

Just Another Tuesday By: ariathal2410

Tsuna doesn't know why all this supernatural shit started happening in his life, but he'd really like it to stop now please. Mild Arco27

this is one of my favorite khr comfort fics. funny and fluffy with just the right amount of protectiveness and possessiveness from the arco (as well as flirtiness tbh lol).

come get me By: MakeItVoid

Reborn waits a little impatiently for someone to come get him. He doesn't know what to do now. The fire is creeping closer. (Reborn doesn't want to die like this.)

this is imo one of the best written reborn i've ever read about. maybe even the best one? either way i just love so, so much the way he's written in this fic, i couldn't not have added it to this list.

Gokudera Hayato By: rynoa29

It hurts more than you think it would, but your face can't help but to beam with pride.

a look at gokudera and his dynamic with the key people around him throughout his life. a lovely and well written exploration of his character.

and that was the last fic of the list! by which i mean there's actually more haha, but these are the cream of the crop among my favorite khr fics.

[jamespottersmixtape]

rosekiller microfic: goldilocks 1,632 words

a bit of soft rosekiller!! this is inspired by @myrows rosekiller art which you can find here! it made me want to weep a little when I first saw it, so naturally I had to write something haha :) ngl this has been sitting in my drafts for a while and it's by no means perfect but enjoy!! <3

Barty has always cherished quiet nights at Hogwarts.

When the chatter in the halls finally dies down enough for his thoughts to come back to him and homework has been carelessly tossed aside to save for tomorrow.

There’s a sense of serenity to it all that Barty rarely finds elsewhere. A break that he craves most at the end of a particularly stressful day.

Sixth year courses have been—to put it lightly, beating his ass—no matter how well he does. Today, it had taken him ten tries to get the nonverbal spell to work in Transfiguration. Ten.

Usually Barty needs no more than six tries for complicated spells, less than that for complex potions. Disregarding that he still did it faster than over half the class, now he’s just fucking tired.

He groans and shoves his schoolbag off the bed, letting it hit the floor with a soft thud, then flops backwards dramatically onto his pillows. The dorm room is dim, save for a few small candles on his bedside table. Cloaked in various shadows that dance around the room from the flickering flame.

Barty closes his eyes, taking a spare second to just breathe. There’s the soft white noise of the shower running in the background—Evan is taking forever, as usual—and sometimes Barty imagines he can hear the push and pull of the black lake against their walls. Lack of windows be damned.

It isn’t long before the water shuts off, and Barty feels the smallest smile tug at the corners of his mouth. It’s just the two of them for now, Regulus off doing god knows what at this hour. So naturally, a lot of built up restraint is needed for Barty not to rip open the bathroom door. To go and take in the sight of a freshly showered Evan and gather him in his arms before he can be stopped.

He’s been in there for less than thirty minutes but fuck it, Barty misses him.

Grumbling, he goes to change into the first clothes he can find. Settling for some years old joggers and a loose tank top, the soft fabric already making him drowsy.

The bathroom door creaks open and his head snaps up, immediately catching Evan’s eye. Barty really can’t help it when his heart skips a beat.

Evan raises his eyebrows, chuckling when Barty takes no subtlety in checking him out. His hair is dry, most likely done by magic. A thin blue t-shirt hangs off his shorter frame and each step taken towards Barty casts golden shadows over his skin.

Looking like everything warm and comfortable; the smell of his shampoo in the air so familiar that it hurts.

Barty’s smirk is wicked when he tugs Evan by his shirt into a light kiss. He makes a startled noise but melts into Barty’s touch regardless, fingers cupping his chin. The kiss is short but effective in making Barty’s head go all fuzzy.

“What happened to hello?” Evan asks when they pull apart—though not very far—now standing chest to chest. Evan’s bare feet fit in between his socked ones.

 Barty makes sure to slather his words in extra charm, grinning. “Hello, gorgeous.” 

“Wow, smooth talker,” Evan deadpans.

“You know you love it, Goldilocks.”

Barty takes a blonde strand between two fingers, tugging lightly at the end and earning him a deep scowl.

“I told you that nickname is stupid.” Evan rolls his eyes but Barty catches the blush high on his cheekbones. A light dusting of pinks and reds that work to compliment his freckles. Barty pokes him on one cheek.

“And I told you I don’t care.”

“Brat.”

Barty hums noncommittally, threading their fingers together. Warmth settles in his chest from the steady weight of Evan’s hand.

He leads Evan past the emerald green curtains of his bed and down onto the soft mattress. It’s a routine they’ve created over the last few months, and every time Barty wraps the covers around them it becomes harder and harder to let Evan slip back into his own bed. Something about having him in his arms means a night free of restless tossing and turning.

They lie facing each other for a few minutes, minimal space between them and their heads resting on one pillow. Quiet voices and even quieter laughs, a sacred bubble that neither of them dare to pop.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Barty laughs, his voice barely above a whisper. “You told Cresswell what?”

Evan frowns, a crease forming between his eyebrows. “I told him…that if he feels the need to keep staring at you in class then maybe I should tape his fucking eyes open. You know, that way he wouldn’t miss it when I inevitably snog you right in front of him.”

“Evan!” Barty can’t help it, his laugh is loud when it bursts from his chest.

“Well, maybe I left out that last bit…”

It takes him a minute before his laughter dies down, the quiet settling back in. “You jealous?” Barty teases, raising an eyebrow.

Evan purses his lips. “No.”

Barty stares at him knowingly.

Silence.

Evan averts his eyes.

“Mhm sure, come here.”

He drags Evan in by his waist, the pair of them fumbling around until Evan’s head relaxes in the crook of Barty’s neck and his forearm rests over his chest. Their sides pressed together, Barty smiles—fully content now.

Wordlessly, Barty ghosts his hand over the warm skin, relishing in the way Evan shivers from the cold metal of the ring on his middle finger.

There’s silence for a few minutes. Evan’s hair brushes the side of his face and his warm breath fans across his chest, their hearts only slightly out of sync as they beat so close together.

It’s a lot for Barty to take in sometimes—the whole idea of them. Having someone so delicate, yet so utterly untouchable, be his. If anyone took the time to ask him, though, he wouldn’t change it for the world.

Barty knows Evan’s eyes are closed, can see the shadow of his eyelashes. He takes the opportunity to trace over his freckles; a messy constellation that follows the high points of his cheeks, crosses sporadically over the bridge of his nose.

Evan scrunches his face up, which should not be so endearing. “That tickles.”

Barty turns his head, placing the quickest of kisses atop of Evan’s forehead, debating whether or not he should just give in and lick the side of his face. Then ultimately deciding against it—Evan did just take a shower—he’ll be nice for once.

“I wasn’t jealous. I don’t get jealous,” Evan mumbles, his voice lulled and tired sounding.

“Of course not, Ev.” Barty resists rolling his eyes, Evan can’t see his face anyway. 

“Besides,” Barty continues, “If you were jealous, I don’t mind you threatening people for me…it’s kinda hot.”

Evan smacks him lightly across the chest, but snuggles deeper against his shoulder. Which definitely does not do a weird flippy thing to Barty’s stomach. Nope, not at all.

“Mm okay,” Evan yawns. Which, Barty can’t blame him. Exhaustion is slowly taking over his body the longer they lie here. At this point all he wants to do is blow out the candles and fall asleep. Keep Evan next to him the whole night.

“Hey Goldilocks.”

“Mhm…” Evan must be too tired to even rebuke the nickname.

“Reg is going to freak out if he finds you here in my bed.”

Evan huffs, not very different from a petulant child. He makes no move to get up or even open his eyes. “I don’t care.”

This time Barty can’t hold back his yawn. He shuts his eyes and allows his body to sink further into the bed. Further into Evan. “Maybe we can tell Potter how madly in love with him Reg is. Then they can finally leave us alone.”

“Payback,” Evan snorts.

They both fall asleep without really meaning to. Tangled limbs beneath the covers and hands that aren’t inclined to let go. As his mind quiets down, something in Barty feels settled. A puzzle piece slotting into place after searching and searching for the edge that matches. Evan tends to have that effect on him, he’s come to notice.

All is quiet for a while, the whole school in a coinciding state of slumber. A time when portraits snore softly and only ghosts roam the halls, the usual lively presence of magic at bay for now.

But not even thirty minutes later they’re awoken with a loud thud and a significantly darker room—Barty had blown the candles out after all—just in case.

“Lumos,” someone whispers.

Regulus stands at the end of Barty’s bed, hands on his hips and a look of annoyance on his face. His wand is now lit and shining far too bright for Barty’s liking.

“What the fuck, Reg?” he asks groggily. Evan groans beside him and tries to hide his face.

“Not my fault I tripped over your fucking books, Barty,” Regulus hisses. “And you guys are gross. You said no PDA in the dorm.”

Barty squints and gestures for him to lower his wand. Regulus does so slowly. “Yeah, well I’m a fucking liar. Let us sleep.”

It’s with a lot of grumbling and a sharp glare that Regulus turns and stalks to his side of the room. When he shuts himself in the bathroom Barty reaches for his own wand and spells his curtains closed.

He has Evan back in his arms in no time, steady and real and here. Absolutely not going anywhere, if Barty has a say in it. His fingers resume their path over his arm, tracing nonsensical shapes that neither can decipher. Before they both drift off again a thought pops into Barty’s head.

“We are definitely getting him back for this.”

[lauraneedstochill]

I've never liked to think that Aemond is evil, just someone who's been hurt too much time and time again and saw no justice for it; do you think he's evil? or that there's more to it than simply that? That he genuinely cares about people, his mother, his family?

I do not consider show!Aemond evil — I’d like to believe that, as the definition of the word suggests, you have to be more immoral and wicked, perhaps even a bit sadistic to be downright evil. I see him as calculating, emotionless, cold, and that paired with everything he’s done makes him a villain but not necessarily evil (…yet?).

his current feelings, though? I have no fcking clue because the show is doing a very poor job of explaining them properly. to me, Aemond from Season 1 and Aemond from Season 2 are two different people.

🔪 S1 Aemond, yes, he cared about his mother (she sought justice for him when no one else did, she offered him comfort even when she couldn’t fully understand his struggles), his family (he’d grow up thinking he had to step up and be the responsible one — to eventually take pride in becoming someone his family can rely on), and he knew what loyalty was, despite not being ecstatic about the order of things (Alicent did drill “in the world we must defend our own” into her kids' heads, and you bet, he was the fastest learner). the real tragedy of Aemond — to me — was about his deepest desires and his arrogance clashing with the picture-perfect image he’s grown into and didn’t mind portraying as it got him the love and trust of the ones he cared about, the approval and respect of everyone else. but his desires are too big and burning, and his arrogance is only fuel: of course, he deserves it all and he should take it — and he can take it BUT it will ruin the image he’s crafted and the bonds he’s formed. raised by the woman who put duty above all, can he betray everything she taught him to believe in? there are a few ways things can go from there but all the paths lead to his self-isolation and his downfall, although he keeps trying and trying to prove something till the very end, and it’s sad because it’s relatable — we are all trying, we all hate feeling that we are capable of more but simultaneously aren’t enough. if only he put all that effort somewhere else, maybe he could’ve been happier but we will never know. he dies young.

🔪 but S2 Aemond? they packed his character development in the tiniest bag and it’s never been opened once. the writers are so keen on blaming Aegon for everything, they don’t realize that making Aemond do a 180 because of one unfortunate joke is a disservice to the character. him deciding that regicide and fratricide aren’t a big deal is as wild as it is dumb: there’s no way he didn’t know it would damage his relationships with the very few people who loved him. how long can you milk “he was bullied as a child” before it bites you in the ass and makes your super-cool-much-wow character look like a thin-skinned boy who holds on to every offense instead of idk MOVING ON? because he did get his justice — he got the biggest dragon as a fuck you to the people who made fun of him for not having one, he only got stronger despite losing an eye, he got to be his mom’s most precious son and he DID get Luke killed (even if by mistake, the result is still the same — the bastard who maimed him won’t ever make fun of him again). how is that not enough? who and when decided that Aemond becoming a bully himself would be a great achievement? why holding him accountable for what he did isn’t fair but him being vengeful left and right is praised and cheered for? and he is not complex, I’m sorry, he just isn’t. he’s been robbed of proper reasoning and conflict, and I am getting tired of trying to peer into his one eye to get a hint of emotion while S1 Aemond could at least grant us little outbursts here and there to confirm that he is a human being and he can successfully keep his facade up while also having feelings.

S1 Aemond was many things, all of them fascinating. S2 Aemond makes me want to skip to the scenes of Daemon getting high and scared in some leaking castle (and I’m starting to wonder if maybe that’s the point?).

anyways, I hope Ryan Condal will be out of job when the show is over.

[blackjackkent]

OK, we left off with Rakha assisting Minsc in picking a fight with Roah Moonglow's Zhentarim on behalf of the Guild.

This is a very big and fairly complex fight, although we're playing on easy so it didn't end up being particularly challenging. Frankly, we probably could have just sat by and watched, because Astele is fucking terrifying with her throwing knives and was regularly one-shotting three people a turn.

Satisfyingly, the end of the fight ended up being a gang-up by all ten or twelve guild folks plus us, all on that one guy who was talking about going out and shivving Harpers. I bet Jaheira was satisfied. We only lost one Guild person too.

Lae'zel retrieved the gold we're supposed to return to Rakath, and it's time to go receive our thanks for helping Nine-Fingers out.

She's... predictably curt about the whole business.

"Kind of you to take the Zhentarim down first," she says coolly as Rakha approaches. "But that doesn't make us friends."

Her eyes are still wide with the adrenaline of the battle, Zhent blood still damp on her cheeks. She flicks her eyes past Rakha to the hulking Rashemaar behind her, and then spreads her arms in a wide, challenging stance.

"Come on, then, Stone Lord," she snaps bitterly. "If you mean to take my chair, you'll get no better chance than this."

Minsc, also still high on the just-finished fight, glares back at her with equal intensity. "Minsc has no interest in your furniture, Nine-Fingers," he snarls gravely. "Only in the wicked rump that fills it!"

Nine-Fingers blinks, her ferocity curtailed abruptly into bewilderment. "What?" she asks, bemused.

"You have been a stone in this city's boot for too long!" Minsc goes on, lifting one hand to emphasize his point, oblivious to his listener's confusion. "And it will be no Stone Lord who reaches 'twixt Balduran's sticky toes to dislodge you! It will be *Minsc*!"

Nine-Fingers gapes at him for a moment, then glances at Rakha with a raised eyebrow. "I haven't got the slightest idea what he's trying to say," she says dryly.

"Proof that he is back to normal, no?" Jaheira murmurs.

Rakha says nothing for a moment. There are multiple different threads of meaning in this conversation and she is doing her best to parse them out and understand.

Minsc and Nine-Fingers are both threatening each other with a fight, but she isn't sure either of them really wants it. Nine-Fingers is angry and defensive, her blood up from the threat to her people. And Minsc...

She knows what Minsc is feeling, because she has felt it herself. Roah's words sank deep into him, the reminder that he was corrupted and his body used for evil deeds that went against everything he stands for. He wants to lash out, wants to kill with purpose to remind himself that that is what he does, that his actions are for the right reasons. And he sees Nine-Fingers, leader of the city's underworld, as an acceptable target.

All else being equal, Rakha would probably not have stood in the way; she feels no particular attachment to Nine-Fingers and trusts Minsc more than herself. But Nine-Fingers is Jaheira's friend, too, or at least... Jaheira has history with her, and out of the corner of her eye, Rakha can see the older woman's tension, the readiness to pounce into the middle of the oncoming fray.

"Minsc, calm down," Rakha says after a short pause. "The battle is over."

Nine-Fingers raises an eyebrow, and her weight settles back a little off the balls of her feet. "So the hound answers to his name again, does he? And you didn't have to put him down," she says thoughtfully.

Rakha stiffens, one fist clenching at her side, hearing this as yet another insult to her friend like those that Roah was tossing about. But Nine-Fingers is still talking, tilting her head to look at Minsc with an appraising sort of expression.

"Good," she goes on after a moment. "I'd rather you die as Minsc the mad Rashemaar." Her lips twitch ruefully. "It's silly, but... d'you know, you were something of a hero of mine, when I was young?"

Minsc narrows his eyes suspiciously. "Even now your tongue twists the truth," he growls. "When you were young and ten-fingered sill, Minsc and Boo were stone - enstatuated on a city square!"

"Aye, I remember the spot," Nine-Fingers says calmly. "By a garden on the Wide. A soft thicket near the market, with ample pockets to pick. Celestia itself, to a street rat looking for shelter."

Her expression is unusually serious, studying Minsc's face, though Rakha can see her hand still hovering by the dagger on her belt, ready for any further threat. "You might not have been wrestling monsters, but... you kept the wind and the rain off. Heroic enough for me."

(A/N: Fun fact, this line was the inspiration for the opening section of the first chapter of Fault Lines. :D )

Minsc shifts uncomfortably. There's a strange play of emotion across his face, the righteous anger wrestling with something softer - pity, regret, dismay. "Bah," he mutters. "You try to dampen Boo's eyes. Do not think you will be spared his teeth!" He squares his shoulders and sets his jaw. "Evil is evil - even if it once was innocent."

Nine-Fingers barks a laugh. "Oh, I'm no innocent," she quips dryly. "But evil?" She shrugs. "You tell me. With the Fist, the watch, and the Council itself all licking the Absolute's boots, who's the only one left standing to protect Baldur's Gate?"

Jaheira stirs, taking a step forward into the range of Minsc's peripheral vision. "She's right, Minsc," she says quietly. "She's been an ally down through the years." Her eyes flick to Nine-Fingers and hold her gaze for a moment. "A friend, even."

Nine-Fingers grimaces, looks away, her hand resting onto the dagger's hilt.

(A/N: This meaningful and angst-filled glance brought to you by the three chapters of Fault Lines I have not yet written.)

"A friend?" Minsc's eyes widen with more bewilderment now than anger. "Jaheira, Boo cannot believe his ears! Has the city fallen so far in our absence? Are there no heroes left?"

"Heroes come and go," Nine-Fingers says flatly. "But the Guild has always been here - protecting the city." Her head cocks and her eyes narrow, and then she adds pointedly, "Until the Stone Lord came to break us."

Minsc flinches away from the words as if they were a slap.

It could come to blows here, Rakha thinks wearily. Minsc wishes to see the world in black and white, good and evil, and then strike a blow against the evil to prove that he is good.

But it is not that simple. Rakha knows that better than anyone. Evil blood flowed in her veins, and yet Minsc greeted her with kindness because of the good she could yet do anyway.

Nine-Fingers... Rakha doesn't know much about her, but she suspects they are more alike than not. As Rakha kills with purpose, so Nine-Fingers does the work of the Guild in service of the city - a city Minsc also wishes to protect.

[PERSUASION] "She's right," she mutters. "The Guild will fight for the city. We just have to let them."

(A/N: Hooray for Rakha's high CHA score because the dialogue if you fail the speech checks here - which leads to combat with the Guild - is devastating.)

For a moment Minsc's jaw works as he thinks, as Rakha's words work on him. Then he scowls, his head dropping, his eyes turning away, as the weight of all the evil he himself was forced to do breaks over him abruptly.

"I am shamed," he whispers. "Nydeshka, unworthy to fight alongside my friends! Boo... what am I to do?"

Nine-Fingers relaxes fractionally, studying him with narrowed eyes. Then she speaks, as if coming to a decision. "I can't speak for your rodent, but I know something of debts. If you reckon you've got one to repay... well, we could always work together."

Minsc stiffens. "With you?" he says indignantly. "Minsc has no lust for gold, that he would shake grandmothers by their ankles, or set Boo nibbling at their purse strings."

"I'm not talking about that," says Nine-Fingers dryly. "We've both got bigger enemies than one another. The City's enemies."

She shifts her weight, cocking her head to one side. "And... Tyr's honest truth, you gave my Guild the wake-up call it needed. We've grown complacent. Lazy. Too sure of our standing. We never would've needed the Zhent if we'd had a fighting force of our own - swords for the city, when the watch and Fist fail us."

Minsc blinks, clearly struggling to follow her meaning, but then his eyes brighten excitedly. "Like a berserker lodge of my homeland!" he says with eager enthusiasm. "No army or militia serving the local lords - but heroes, working for the common good!"

Nine-Fingers, thrown, raises an eyebrow. "Heroes," she says cautiously. "Sure."

"Very well!" Minsc says brightly. "Minsc and Boo accept!"

Whatever answer Nine-Fingers was expecting, it clearly wasn't that. "I'm sorry. You-- what?"

"Boo and I will be your berserker lodge!" Minsc proclaims. His whole attitude has changed, having this new purpose (at least as he interprets it) placed before him. "Taking the ugly ways of your Guild and beating them into a more virtuous shape!"

Nine-Fingers has gone from coolly confident to mildly alarmed, her eyebrows climbing up near her hairline. "That's... not even slightly what I was saying," she says firmly. "I wasn't asking--"

Immediately Minsc's face falls again and he scuffs his boot against the floor. "You are right," he mutters. "I have proven myself unworthy. I cannot serve the city if I was so easily turned against it." He casts a helpless glance at Rakha. "If I do not know my own mind... perhaps I no longer know what is good..."

Rakha has been struggling to follow the rapid turns of this conversation and at this point is not sure of anything except that it seems to be slipping out of everyone's hands. Nine-Fingers (if Rakha understands correctly) wishes to use Minsc as a battering ram against the Guild's enemies, while Minsc wishes to attack corruption within the Guild itself. Both are amenable to working together, but on different terms. And Minsc has sincere doubts as to his own moral compass, having once been corrupted by the Absolute.

Rakha thinks this over. As she sees it, her main concern here is not the matter of the Guild; that is beyond her immediate interests. But she *is* concerned about Minsc and his own confidence, when he has been responsible for bolstering her own.

In the low moments when she discussed the darkness in her own blood with him, he suggested the need of a furry companion to provide insight and guidance. She is not sure she truly believes him - Ash has not provided her any guidance that she has managed to understand, and she is not entirely clear on whether Boo actually speaks or if Minsc merely imagines it. But regardless, Minsc believes the guidance he conjures out of Boo's mouth where he may not believe his own mind at present.

"Simple, then," she says gravely. "Trust that Boo will guide you both."

"Boo?" Minsc says, thoughtfully.

"Boo?" Nine-Fingers says, even more alarmed.

Minsc laughs, delighted - and visibly relieved. "Boo! Kingpin Boo! My friend, your wisdom is vast and unknowable as the Rashemi High Country." He pulls the hamster from his pocket, raises him to eye level. "What say you, Boo? When the Absolute is slain, shall we join Nine-Fingers Keene and show her the ways of goodness?"

Jaheira's tension has been slowly easing over the course of this conversation, and now she laughs softly. "You did say he was your hero, Astele. Maybe you'll learn something."

Nine-Fingers groans. "Can't we just go back to killing one another instead?"

She sighs, rubs a hand down her face. "All right. Fine. Let's leave this particular fight for when the actual war is won, shall we?" She glances at Rakha with a curt nod. "With the Stone Lord off my back, I'll be able to bring my people out of hiding. Cobble together a force so we're ready when you call on us."

She squints, then smiles wryly. "You have my thanks. Though I'm still not actually sure you haven't made my life that little bit harder."

[scph1001]

end of the year yes sir yes sir.

as always id say the rows are more exact than the actual rankings but some of the edge ones are iffy.

sadly i did not finish metaphor in time- ill likely finish it within the next week though. if i had finished metaphor in time (and if the ending doesnt suck shit out of nowhere) it would have been third. i respect it alot more than P3R- and though i have a list of complaints i thought metaphor was a wonderful game

playing killer7 was crazy!!!! i knew i had to play after seeing the cloudman cutscene and it really did deliver. it made me feel like i was playing MGS2 for the first time again and i think thats the highest praise i could give a game. in another world where MGS2 wasnt the first game to really get me into the medium- killer7 would have been my favorite game. absolutely timeless. incredible combat and i admire the way it jumps topic to topic and doesnt really offer true finality to a couple of its points.

chulip now thats an all timer 👆 very adorable video game i like that its mean to the player but also has a kind heart. for whatever reason my joykill spirit doesnt activate for chulip- and there probably is a bit to say on how it treats women- but its not the worst ever and the game is not too pushy about bothering her. very very good ending sequence. great gameplay loop

honestly i dont even think i like P3R much. it was just the first game me and alot of the people i know were excited about in a long time and i have really fun memories playing it and getting it on release. honestly i thought about it while writing this and ended up just making a backloggd review lol

not much to say about katamari. its one of those games for me. yeah i enjoyed it but i have so little to say so maybe i shouldnt rank it so high but i fuck with its vision alot.

SMT1 is not fun to play but i really do admire its existence and atmosphere. incredibly cool

i still have complex feelings about SMTVV since its everything i wanted but its also lame as shit. tao and yoko remind me of ariana and cynthia during the wicked press tour lowkey. also i think SMTVV got worse after metaphor came out and ATLUS started showing off some actually good dungeons

earthbound was alright honestly i dont feel strongly about it and if it didnt have its presentation and unique manner of speaking to the viewer it would be a 3/5

jack bros was actually good im not exaggerating

baroque was cool but also im not very into it- its a 4/5 out of respect for it

shadow of memories was crazy everyone go play shadow of memories

i honestly fucked with P1 alot in terms of style/vibes but theres not much more to say about it and the story and characters arent special

gitaroo man was hard as shit but the music was fun

the parappa 2 music was fun but gitaroo man had more swag

i do not care about hypnospace sorry everyone.

im not the biggest fan of P2IS and P2EP just felt like a worse version of P2IS so i was never gonna be really into it. i do admire its vision and i think its pulling off what FFVIIR is trying to do better- but still not good

i respect the answer- but i just do not like P3 combat. a game of just P3 combat is going to fall flat for me. and honestly for a game about death (P3)- maybe there shouldnt be an answer.

dragon warrior was cute but i cant really give it high praise. for its time- great revolutionary. now? its alright.

i hated LIVE A LIVE that shit sucked

[mistermistyyy]

ART FIGHT SUMMARY 2024, SUCKAHS!

Second year of ArtFight and the first year I went all in on it. As opposed to my 4 attacks from 2023, this year I submitted 13! Before that, though, I gotta share others' attacks against me.

First, of course, is the lovely @pixel-exchange of Team Stardust who somehow managed to pump out *4* banger attacks against me this year! We were in a heated revenge war, which he ultimately beat me at, but I don't mind much, with how awesome his stuff was. I love how each turned out. I think my favorite may have been "Alone on the Moon", featuring my astronaut dog gal, Laika.

Second person to attack was @headphones-lifeform of Team Stardust who made this adorable bust of my Star Trek OC, Nurse Telos! He just looks wonderful, mad shoutouts to them!

Third is from a mutual of mine who actually attacked me in 2023; Croconiles from Stardust! (Twitter/Insta) He drew my skunk OC, Stripes, and she turned out heckin' excellent! Love that eyeshadow and the big nose.

Fourth is this hilarious little piece for my boy Werner by fellow Trekkie, @lyroart of Stardust! Love how goofy and weird his expression here is. Perfect for him with how wacky he is.

And lastly, we got this cute wittle pixel art profile for Laika from RevlisFox on Team Stardust. (CharHub) Looks super cute and I could totally imagine having something like this for a little family chart or the like.

Now, to move onto my attacks, firstly I have my revenge war with Pixel-Exchange. Big fan of how the first 2 looked, but the third was admittedly rushed. Still though, mate has some sweet designs.

Second, I have my attacks against LyRo the goat. Drew some of their Star Trek OCs. Calvin had my favorite design (guess why) but I really enjoyed Ena's personality, so I attacked em both!

Next we have my revenge against Headphones. I really liked this design for Niph in particular (guess why) and I really liked the concept for a cave-dwelling crewmate. Felt weird drawing props for once lol.

Next revenge was for Croconiles, with his silly little OC couple, Darby and Animal. Felt like it'd be fun to draw two characters interacting, and I like how they look in my style. Plus I just love the slight texture on his art.

And, the last of my revenges here is one against RevlisFox with this art of a character whose name I forgot. 😰 SORRY the character page got privated, I gotta wait until it's back up again. In any case, this was my final attack this year, and though a simple one, idk I kinda liked how it turned out.

So, moving away from revenges, here's my plain ol' attacks against artists I like!

First are my attacks against Keiiphobix (YT/Insta) of Team Stardust! No joke, one of my new favorite artists on AF. Just wicked good, man! I drew his lil guy, Maurice (ISTG HE IS THE CUTEST FUCKING THING EVERRRRR) and Joy, who is the just spikiest fella ever <3

Next was Callum by PeculiarPossom (Twitter/Etsy) of Team Seafoam! Just a skinny freaky lil possum drummer boy. I can relate to his struggle of being a drummer with no band lol. Fun fact: I was in Canada when I drew this! Shoutout Quebec

After this is art of le bird boy, Matteo, owned by a YouTuber I watch, RedPanda Master! (YT/DA) I initially fell in love with them for their silly lil WoF shitposts, but I thought Matteo was just adorable, and a must-draw! They have some awesome fantasy designs, but a lotta them were too complex for me, so I naturally settled for the easiest and cutest one.

And finally, we come to the end of this longass megapost and arrive at my attack of @asrielwithans on Team Stardust, and no joke this may be my favorite attack I did. Aside from not really capturing the eeriness of Hollypaw, I love how this turned out. I first saw their Warriors fan content last year and I have been obsessed ever since. That Christmas Kids animation has been on loop in my brain for MONTHS. Their stuff is metal, seriously, Warriors fans and animatic fans, go watch it NOW.

Welp.... that's the end of my exhaustive post of my ArtFight activity this year. I definitely shoulda split this up into several smaller posts and I probably shouldn't have rambled so much in between the art but DAMN IT, I love all these artists and I needed to talk about each of em. Seriously, go follow all of them, go comment on their stuff, go share it around. I'm so thankful for the crazy amount of attention I got this year by those who attacked me, and I hope all the artists who I attacked loved seeing art of their characters. Although SeaFoam may have lost this year, I certainly didn't!

[grimsneverendingfuneral]

wow i adore your OC world. i’m eating it up i want to know everything. tell us more about nina?

this is so kind. better than sex. thank you for indulging me and my world, seriously.

nina. nina bautista. she's a dyke, through and through. has known her whole life. half-mexican, half-greek. oaxacan on her dad's side, greek on her mom's. complex relationship with her ancestry because her dad is an asshole, because of her queerness and because she didn't grow up in oaxaca. diaspora type shit. she's closer to her greek side, but she speaks both languages. it hurts her heart to think about that place and that side of her, though she knows many of its cultural practices. she was a young girl in greece for a bit, lived with her grandma while her mom worked and her dad cheated on her mom and drank. she grew up with her mom bringing home a different boyfriend every month. nina's pretty much taken care of her little sister from an early age. roller derby girl. champion. will elbow you in your fucking face. loves a good game. loves a little bit of violence. wicked sense of humour. tongue in cheek. she's an intellectual, but not pedantic about it. she just reads a lot and is well versed on theories of all kinds. she means well, but she's insensitive at times. always pushing you to be the best version of yourself, but can be harsh delivering the blows. the most reliable person when it comes to her friends, but if you don't know her like that, forget it. she can be flighty, and a bit scattered, but also incredibly focused. gets bored with life easily. never completes a single project, she has a million ideas a day. she's always selling something, always doing some kind of side hustle. works hard to play hard. loves her alcohol. amazing cook. like crazy good. she's a barista full time, a healer on the side. magic worker. oracle reader. cards in her purse, honey in a jar, rose petals in a bag. likes to collect bones. she has a pretty knife collection, too. she knows plant properties and makes herbal everything. she's very holistic, but doesn't push it on other people. has a lot of friends, from all over. she's travelled a lot and isn't afraid of not being grounded, because she just is on her own. she has a solution to everything, which is precisely this: it is what it is. deal with it or die. she kind of gives no fucks, most of the time, sometimes to her detriment, and not in the careless about her life way, but in a "i just wanna have fun" way. takes her a long time to address a problem, even though she can literally bully you into addressing yours. lover to her core, but solid about it. she doesn't get lost in love. doesn't even date casually, she's just having a good time until she decides on the one, which turns out to be Dawn. she's actually only been in ONE serious, longstanding relationship, and it's precisely with Dawn (teehee). she's devoted and fun, wants to keep it light. loves anything that has to do with fixing stuff. she loves to re-upholster furniture, woodwork, fixing anything. she loves her pink drill. little bob the builder ass, which is great cause Dawn's the same. they really are those lesbians.

ok fuck well i love her so goddamn much. she's pretty new to me (like a couple of months new), so i'm still figuring shit out, trying to piece some stuff together, but that's what i got so far

[velvetporcelain]

Does the world really want to be seen?

Grand rising mon coeur. I hope you have slept well. I had a wicked dream, not scary, just twisted, like always. The sun is rising and hitting the trees just right this morning. I let my eyes soak in the beauty like a sponge and remember I woke up me again.

I always style my daughter’s hair in the mornings. I’m really working on teaching her what self care means. She was on her phone, scrolling through instagram reels, and it reminded me how insanely desperate social media is.

I found myself grateful for pulling myself out of the cluster fuck of doom. It’s like we get stuck in a world so artificial and wonder why we have anxiety when we maneuver around the real world in real time. I do not miss it. I do not miss aimlessly putting bits and pieces out into the world. I like doing that here. Writing is so much more mentally rewarding and immensely productive. It’s like training my mind to think in ways I wouldn’t always think and I like that challenge.

It’s so easy to do stupid shit online. I’ve been there. I’d much rather indulge in my mind power than anything else really. I look forward to reading more than I ever had in my entire life.

I find myself less angry by the day. Accepting more of myself each time I reveal something new inside of me. It’s such a great feeling of accomplishment, one you can only give yourself. I find myself being more patient with the world.

My outlook on life itself has become much deeper and the relationship with myself has become much more complex yet so intimate. There are days that I find myself wishing to share this intimacy, but all in due time. I love the actual connections I have been making with real human beings in the physical world. It’s much more satisfying and rewarding to my spirit. Like I’m some type of rebel starting an invisible movement.

I no longer reach into the cesspool of garbage hoping to find treasure because I am the treasure. The world will convince you that you are mentally ill if you let it, not knowing that the entire world is contagious with mental disease.

I spoke with my father for a good while yesterday and I miss him. I hope that he decides to drive down and see me soon.

My drive to know the world personally has driven me into myself time and time again. I love the passion and love that I put into the process of experiencing myself. I no longer look for a space to fit in because I am the space. I am never empty, I am full of infinite possibilities, time, energy, progress, love, intention. My intelligence keeps me warm and glowing in a way that is impossible to get from the warmth of others, and I love that about me.

I am no longer bound by the strings of an imaginary puppeteer, I am a real woman. There are times that I wish to reengage in the show but I am not here to entertain anyone but my potential. I thrive on the outskirts, I always have. I am erasing years of moving in the name of other people and it can be terrifying but the amount of courage that is gained could never compare to the amount of fear that it takes to get through the veil. So many gurus out there calling themselves healers and I laugh a little because healers don’t call themselves healers, they just heal.

Yes, we may all be “one” but if you are supplying this oneness without the help of the “others” then you will be left with nothing still wanting everything. The phrase “I only want what wants me” keeps replaying in my head all morning and I take it as a good omen, I run with it. It will be the drive of this day.

Today, all the bones in my body are electric.

-x

[scramble-crossing]

10, 18, 21 & 28 for the ask game w/ sho 👀

Describe the character in one sentance

Pathetic catboy with a god complex thinks he doesn't need friendship or human connections in the friendship and human connections game.

How do you think they were as a kid?

Oooh I'm glad you sent this one I have a whole fic in the works with baby Mina >:] He was an absolute hellraiser as a kid. He was energetic and stubborn but also surprisingly sensitive when he was very young, bawling his eyes out one minute and laughing like a little maniac the next. He was basically incapable of not giving everything 100%. He always struggled to get along with others, too. He was never a social animal. And while he did prefer to do his own thing, there were times when he felt lonely and longed for companionship. Generally I think that younger Mina behaved a lot like he did in Another Day, eccentric and headstrong and still fairly self-centered, but deep down all he really wanted was approval and for someone to understand him.

When do you think they were at their happiest?

This is a very interesting one because I think it's hard to tell what Mina's ever really feeling. He's all smiles in og twewy, but Joshua repeatedly implies throughout Week 2 that he's frustrated and lonely and I don't think he would do so if there wasn't some kernel of truth to it. Likewise he's a lot less openly "cheerful" through NEO, frowning or hiding his face in many of his sprites, but despite that I do think that his week spent with the Wicked Twisters was the happiest we ever got to see him. There he was, surrounded by people who looked up to and relied on him, who were excited to see him each day, if only because they needed his expertise. I think Sho eats up attention regardless of what kind it is and who it comes from, so looking after a group of nervous, uncertain teens really put him in his element. He likes being a leader! He likes praise and admiration! And because he can't get those things from his peer group since he's universally regarded as dangerous and off-putting (gee I wonder why), he seeks it out in teenagers who don't know better like any functioning, well-adjusted adult :)

Most unecessary thing they ever did

TRYING TO BEAT HIMSELF TO DEATH IN ANOTHER DAY HELLO?? WHAT WAS THAT

I will literally never get over that scene. The sheer shock of TWO MINAMIMOTOS?? followed up with the most Freudian bullshit I've ever seen in my life where Mina literally laughs and screams "I could do this ad infinitum!" as he attempts cross-dimensional self-homicide...dude you good?? On one hand I like it for further implying that Sho's prideful arrogance is a front covering up for a deeper dissatisfaction with himself that is so great he takes pleasure in hurting another version of himself (and can easily tie into how self-destructive so many of his behaviors are), but it also drives me mad for how I just. cannot discern what his motives were here beyond just fucking around and finding out I guess??? In a way it's the perfect Sho scene for being bizarre and hilarious on the surface while having kind of miserable implications if you read it a certain way.

Also slightly related: I love how he makes a big deal of saying "Now I can finally ditch you zeptograms" at the end of Week 1 before jumping to AD-verse and immediately going "Where are my zeptograms" he's so funny.

[transmasc-tabris]

Rook rambles because they've infested my brain, as ocs do.

Anyway, thinking about Issala and Anaan and how they were in such similar situations but went such divergent ways in almost everything (I mean they do exist in the same broader world state and their backstories are intertwined) and thinking especially how they would approach elven and qunari culture - cultures neither of them was ever fully part of but that at least some people would assume they belonged to based on appearance. I mean for Issala they largely just... decide it's not worth caring (to be fair that's kind of his whole thing - absentee parent (the kids were definitely better off with their mother), tried to have a positive impact on the world but gave up and basically just wants to steal stuff, drink, look at bugs and go broke playing wicked grace at this point) - a rationale on their part of 'that's a life I barely remember and that I was literally stolen from and by now it's too late to go back. that's a person I could have been if things had been different but they weren't and I can't be that now, and the best thing to do is to just not think about it, because if you don't think about something it doesn't matter'

(but then... something something the golden ear cuff things they wear being molded into points when like he did not have to do that. like wanting to hide the scars is one thing but he did not have to do that specifically)

That's not to say he has some Sera level of dislike for dalish elves and their ways. It's more that none of that matters to him specifically. If they want to preserve their old ways, more power to them, those just aren't his ways and trying to reconnect with what feels like such a small and distant part of himself doesn't feel right at this point or like something he's worthy of.

(and like. Something something mostly unacknowledged self loathing something something a desire to not make waves or stand out and a fear of abandonment and failure - there's multiple reasons people call him 'quiet')

(can't wait to see how The Events in game shake him out of that. (or how meeting and getting to know neve could also reawaken the hope he had in his youth) truly cannot wait to yank this old man out of his sad bastard era. better late than never)

But then with Anaan it feels different and more complex. I mean, yeah she wouldn't have a wholly favorable view of qunari culture, being raised first by someone who intentionally left it and then by a Tevinter family who basically just wanted to prove that 'the savage oxmen' could become civilized in the right circumstances (something something it's their philosophy not something innate to them, which i guess almost kind of maybe sounds okay in theory but very much wasn't in practice)

So like. She knows she can't be a 'true qunari'. She doesn't want to be, considering she spent so much of her youth resisting others attempts to define her against her will. But if those experiences taught her anything it's that qunari certainly aren't the only ones who put people into predefined places in the world.

Plus I think she'd eventually embrace at least a bit of qunari culture. Like partially as a fuck you to her human family and partially out of remembrance of her original parents and well... also because she can't hide who she is - like she can't not be seven feet tall and even cut down her horns are still apparent and even without considering all that she can't not be a mage and she can either try to shrink herself down into something respectable or she can accept herself and anyone who gives her flack for it can eat shit and die mad.

Like I dunno I imagine her using vitaar for the first time and remembering how her mother wore it and wondering if she's somehow too human for it but of course of course she isn't and she never could be.

And like.

I keep thinking about that little sentence from the wiki and how that's such a large part of how she lives her life and while her role as, above all, a protector, is something she decided for herself its still a mold she firmly places herself in and it was still heavily influenced by her life circumstances and she does end up thinking each person has a specific purpose for their life, some thing that they're meant for more than any other.

And just thinking about how both her and Issala's names are both ones they chose, but with her it was a deliberate 'what those humans called me was bullshit" thing and with him it was just that he was too injured and traumatized to speak when they and Anaan first met but she couldn't not have something to call him and everyone else she'd rescued had names and could tell her who they were and how he looked like he'd crumble if touched, and even after they started getting better no other name felt right so he just kept what she'd chosen and how apt both their names turned out to be and how she's so focused on her purpose and he's just drifting through life like... well like dust and neither of these two (or their kids who I've put much less thought into) are the most original characters out there but i like them a lot and had to type this so I wouldn't pull my hair out.

I dunno I think something just gets me about characters with no concrete place in the world because the world won't give them one and it just takes from them and how they cope with that and how they try to take just a little bit back and ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh I'm gonna go eat glass