https://www.tiktok.com/@oddydan/video/7095320663950445850?is_copy_url=1&is_from_webapp=v1&q=Code%20vein&t=1658645972972

Look, I was just scrolling through Code Vein tags on tiktok, I'm not leaving Genshin for this soon I swear, just pls dont be paid because it caught my interest. I like RPG games, so that is probably why [. . . "Bloody scenes". . . That aint stopping me--]

Hydro Harbinger does not like me leaving at all

While the dlcs are complete and utter dog crap, largely just reskins and stuff, it is a wonderful game and I would highly recommend it. The combat may take some getting used to but it is a very cool game overall that I very much enjoyed my playthrough of.

As for Childe not liking it, well Code Veins has a very good character creator, so who knows maybe you could bring our Murderous Tartar Sauce along for the ride with you...that is if you feel ok of depriving Zhongli of his wallet for a while lol.

Edit: I just looked at reddit and take a look at this and you can see what I mean by the character creator being pretty good, I mean it may not be a 100% but I think that this is a good example:

https://www.reddit.com/r/codevein/comments/mj559v/genshin_impact_tartaglia_childe/

Also, and you will understand this when you start playing it if you decide to, Io is best girl of Code Vein and deserves all of the love you can give her. There are 3 endings I think and I feel it is worth it to try and get the best ending, which requires a bit of work to do, because it is...well I won't spoil it.

The requirements for that one are a little hidden so don't be afraid to loo them up because I would never have known how to get it otherwise lol.

If you do decide to go down that blood soaked road, maybe you can understand why my next batch of brainrots will contain an idea for a reader who has arrived in Teyvat with some interesting friends and a very interesting condition.

Now if only they could stop their acolytes and mother from trying to make plants that bleed so they can eat their greens lol.

If you’re comfortable writing this, can you write a part 2 of the cheating scenario on Diluc’s side where the reader thinks about what he said more after leaving and realizes he didn’t consent to what happened and they go back to him?

Of course!! I guess I ended up making him the more redeemable... i should mention the last part of that story was very much him trying to... well. the warning will tell you.

[[ WARNING: ANGST, MENTION OF SELF HARM, MENTION OF R@PE ]]

[[ Summary: After a mistake, one where he could barely think and essentially poisoned by alcohol... you realize, after some thought, that it wasn't so much he cheated, but he was... sick. Literally.

Part One Here

Word Count: 1'962 ]]

You had left him, in a fit of anger and pain and betrayal. He told you that he cheated, and while, a little later, you could commend him for telling you so bluntly, without any flowery extra dialogue or excuses, only the pure truth...

That doesn't change what happened. If it happened once, it'll happen again.

You sat alone, glad you hadn't taken him up on his offer to move in just yet... You had a few things over there, that you were probably never going to get back... but that was fine. Things could be replaced. Sadly, time couldn't be.

For awhile you just minded your own business, guiltily thinking over everything. Were you good enough? Is that why he cheated? Or were the two of you nothing?

You found yourself walking to the Angel's Share, wanting to see some old friends to talk to... just to feel a little better, but you froze as the door was open--What were you doing, walking right into his establishment that he often bartended...

No, but he wasn't here. Charles was sitting there, and he glanced at you, a look of... pain, perhaps? in his eye, but he said nothing, pouring a mug for some random man, who took it and walked off immediately.

You decided to just leave, without a single word. No one stopped you, but why would they?

That night, you instead went to the Cat's Tail, not touching a drop of alcohol, simply some non-alcoholic, but sugary sweet drinks as you pet the kitties, leaving for a few moments to get them some treats. It was a nice distraction, even if that fluffy red cat in the corner kept reminding you of Diluc...

Moving was sounding like a tempting option, but you'd give yourself a few more days at least before making a serious decision. Your heart was aching and tender, you needed at least a little time.

The next day, you went out, stocked up on food, and did nothing but hide inside from the rest of the world. The next, you didn't even leave, you just hid.

Finally, you decided to try Angel's Share. You weren't as familiar with the people in the Cat's Tail... and maybe Kaeya was there? He knew Diluc better than even you, and he could, maybe, give some outside insight... even if he hated your guts, he could at least shed some light onto the reality.

You dressed oddly, trying to hide from the world in a hood, head lowered. As you walked in, however, you realized this was unnecessary, as Charles was still working the counter.

You took your hood off, and sat at the bar, "Hey, Charles."

"Greetings," he said, having been putting something under the counter as you sat down, "What do you want?"

"Is Kaeya here?" You asked... he looked at you oddly.

"No, left in a rush. Some Knightly business." He probably knew more, he was a smart man who knew when to speak and when to seal his lips.

"... has, uhm," you felt like an idiot, but you wanted to ask, "Has Diluc been around? I haven't heard of anything about him lately." Not a total lie, there was always gossip about him. But--he sighed, and shook his head.

"No one in Mondstadt has seen him in a few days."

Your heart sunk--you aren't even entirely sure why.

"Some wonder if he died, and they're trying to figure what to do with the Winery," He looked at you oddly, "Some say he's sick," He began cleaning a glass, "Some say he's just left on some private business. But that's all I heard."

You knew that, just before... that night, there had been high-strung gossip about some drama, about how Diluc had caused issue with the Knights again ( something thrown drastically out of proportion ), and if there was sudden silence...

"Sorry for taking up your time, thank you, I remembered I have something to do," He just nodded as you pushed yourself up, rushing out of the building.

Charles just shook his head, knowing better to even mutter... someone always liked to listen.

...

"Master Diluc," Adelinde said, her voice soft, "Do you need anything."

"I'm fine." He said, weakly. His skin was pale, and he looked beyond just sick. Too much alcohol, even a glass caused him to spew blood, from his dramatic moment where he wanted to spew out his insides to stop breathing, it had taken a massive toll on his body.

However, he had done little to nothing, too weak to fight it. A broken heart plus physical damage was a battle seldom won. But, he would, somehow, even if another part of him died.

He knew better. After... after what had happened, the only other time he truly tried at intimacy ended to agonizingly, he shouldn't have tried a second time, but he did.

He would not try a third.

The door to his room opened, and Adelinde walked over, the sound of hushed whispers, before it clicked shut and she turned back to Diluc.

"You... have a visitor."

Diluc was silent.

"It's... them." Adelinde said, with no small degree of fear and worry, and for the first time, he pushed himself up--his head was reeling, flopping back onto the bed, his hand over his eye, groaning.

Blood loss did that.

"Did they," he inhaled, "Did they say what they wanted?"

"They said 'just to talk.'

He, much slower this time, shifted to sit up. "Have them sit in the main room and wait, I need a moment."

"Are you alright alone?" She asked, as though it was not the only thing he had asked for. His silence was enough to tell her, and she left the room, the door clicking behind her.

He got dressed--Tempted to wear his normal coat, but he opted for a simple outfit that looked decent enough. He was too tired for anything else. Finally, he got up, and walked slowly, wondering if he should have had you come straight in... but, no, he knew better to ask of that.

You were sitting, waiting and twiddling your thumbs, looking up as he walked by. You stood, but he sat down in a chair near to you, but giving you enough space that you'd have to stand up to reach him...

A tactical move.

You sat back down, trying to just get a little closer.

"I'm very tired," he said, "So please tell me what you need from me."

His words were harsh, he was not trying to send you away, to scare you off. He enjoyed, to a degree, seeing you close once again, but it was agony as well, ripping his heart in two. He would not prolong the conversation, but he would not force it to a halt.

Emotions were hard to endure.

"I-I just... I didn't hear anything about you recently." You were worried.

Were you afraid of having to live with the guilt of an unstable man?

"I'm sick, and weak, but fine. I've just been recovering."

You swallowed thickly, "May I ask what from?"

He hesitated, tugging at his sleeves, wishing he had put on a pair of gloves to fiddle with, "Alcohol reaction. It tore up my insides quite badly." He explained, "I'll be fine in a week or so."

... You knew it hurt him, but... this bad?

"That's... okay." You didn't know what to say... and finally sighed. "I want to... I didn't, I left too soon. I didn't... think about you at all, and I'm sorry."

"Don't be. I cheated, that's all there was."

If he was honest, he felt disgusted. He didn't... he didn't remember the face of the woman--was it even a woman? But he felt... awful, sick, torn up. Just like...

The first time.

He shuddered.

"Is that all?" He asked.

"I want to know what happened," you stated, half wanting to hope maybe it was a misunderstanding. If he had, while in his drunken, and admittedly air deprived state, kissed some woman and thought it was you... You could forgive that.

However, he just looked down.

"I..." he swallowed thickly, "I don't remember much. I was pressured into drinking alcohol, and I couldn't spit it all out."

"Who pressured you?"

"I don't remember. It was... some sort of tense situation. I think there was a man, and a woman, and she wouldn't drink it. It was... tense... I think I drank it. She was upset, and eventually ran off, I don't remember."

"... Was it drugged?"

Diluc's eyes widened for a moment.

"I," he struggled to think, "That may have been why I drank it, to... stop her from drinking it."

You were scared to hear the rest of the story.

"I drank it, Charles was there, and I went to the back. I don't-everything was fuzzy. Someone's mouth... on me, then they..."

There were tears in his eyes, and he wobbled a little in his seat.

"I'm sorry, I... I don't think I can keep speaking, it... hurts."

"It hurts?"

He nodded, tears on his face, with all the vulnerability of a young child who was scared and alone.

You weren't stupid.

"Did you... want it?" You asked, and he shook his head,

"No," he was choked up, openly crying as he tried to hide it, "No, no... I didn't."

You didn't care about this distance, standing up, gently resting your hand on his leg, and then holding him. He hugged you, but he felt so weak.

"I'm so sorry," You felt yourself tearing up--you had to be strong. Not only did something horrific happen to him, which he could scarcely speak of, but you had made it all worse by punishing him for it.

"I want to be there for you, I want to take care of you... I'm sorry, I fucked up. I understand if you're upset, or mad, and if you don't forgive me..."

Suddenly, and for only a moment, his hug had crushing force, pulling you closer.

"I just don't want to be alone."

"You won't be alone," you cooed, sweetly, "Do... you want to go to bed?"

He nodded, weakly whimpering, and you helped him to his feet, the two of you walking ahead to the bedroom--Not missing how badly he struggled. You knew his allergy to alcohol was bad, but this bad?

You made your way in, ignoring the harsh and confused looks of the staff, shutting the door behind you.

Everything looked the same as you left, and you helped him sit down, how he... slumped, weakly.

"Do you want to get undressed?"

Slowly, he nodded, and you started with his shirt, pulling it off, tossing it to the side, resolving to let the maids deal with it later... But, you froze, seeing bandages on his arms, you grabbing his hand and pulling it a little closer to you, looking at it.

"What happened?" You asked, and he was... quiet.

"I felt..." He was trying to think, and refused to look at you, "Unclean. I... In a moment, I... thought I could claw it off."

"... Is this why you're so weak."

Slowly, he nodded, and then looked up at you with the look of a puppy that was about to be punished, "Are you mad at me?" He asked, voice aquiver as he was about to cry.

Are you mad, you thought, yes, but only at whoever hurt you.

"No," you said, sitting down beside him, hugging him, feeling him lean his weight into you, "But I want you to look for help, someone who can help you."

He nodded, still weakly holding onto you.

"I didn't think it'd happen again."

Again. How horrifying a single word could be.

"You don't have to deal with it by yourself, this time."

Agave Syrup: ship kid. Secondary collab verse.

Annnnnd here's the new baby! She's my Cciller ship kid. She exists the the secondary ship kid universe which is a collab verse with @thebluescreen. She's from the Multiverse Rem is a part of, but not from the multiverse Coffee creamer is from. (They are two separate multiverses with different ships and storys.)

Both Agave and 4Loko are the same person, I'll explain below.

"yall really for a no caff, full foam, double chocolate latte, with an extra hit of caramel syrup!? It's my own special blend..... Added just for you~"

Name: Agave Syrup

Gender: Female

Sexuality: Strate

Parents: (Bio) Ccino (Da) and Killer (Baba). Non bio Nightmare (Father).

Other family: Rem (older half brother) Vanta (older half brother) Somba Lullaby (older half brother). Dream (uncle) Cross (Uncle) Radiant Hope (Cousin) Empathy (Cousin). And many cats.

Nicknames: Kitten (by killer) and Gave

Agave is the youngest of the Fluffynightkiller ship kids from the second verse. She grew up primary raised By Ccino and her oldest brother Rem. Killer and Nightmare were there, but weren't massively involved parents.

Agave is pretty close to her brother Rem, despite the 13 year age gap and will normally have a fortnightly movie night where they will watch crappy horror movies (like Jack Frost or The Sand) and laugh about how stupid they are. They also both love to watch old horror movies and play a game of "what incredibly stupid choice will character A make that will result in there death? Hmmm". It's there favourite thing to do together.

Agave isn't a huge fan of generally good horror films though and especially can't stand the saw films. So she doesn't watch them unless it's with Rem.

Agave and her other brother Somba aren't as close (he's 5 years older) but she still cares alot for him and isn't above defending him if needed.

Agave has two main sides to herself, this being how she is normally and her persona/alterego 4Loko. But more on that below.

Normally she is a very bright and chipper girl who's abit of a goof. She sees the fun or silly side in alot of things in life and is rarely not in a good mood. She's also quite a passive person (or at least pretends to be) and is quite kind. Her personality is abit to much like Dream's for Nightmare's liking so the two aren't really close.

She's that person who is very fun to be around but just slightly unnerving. Like there is something going on underneath her smile. Something just slightly off.

Being born with her soul on the outside of her body wasn't suprising because of her relation to Killer, however it caused Ccino to be conserned during her up bringing. He were quite scared about how easily she could be hurt of killed so always kept a close eye on her. Killer didn't care as much and gave her more free rain. For example, letting her play with this pocket knife as a 1 year old.

Agave works primarily at her Da's coffee shop and takes great pride in it. She grew up there and its been a part of her life ever since she can remember. She enjoys making her own flavouring syrups and blends to put into drinks to make them taste better. Other then that she's studying a business degree (at age 18 +) at a local university in order to get better with the business.

About 4Loko and her soul.

"Me? And serial killer? No no I'm a barista, those aren't even similar....."

Now this is where things start up, because she's got to inherit some things from Killer, right?

Agaves soul glitches, much like Killer's does, from being heart shaped to being target shaped. It does this many times a day. When this happens it normally doesn't last longer then a few seconds till it goes back to normal. To an outsider it may even be unnoticeable and for the most part it doesn't effect Agave.

However sometimes she will trap her soul into a jar or some type of container. Doing this will stop it from glitching and stick it in whatever form its in (she can't do this all the time as it strains the soul and brings pain). So sometimes she will stick it in target mode. When she sticks it in target mode, her eyes drip.

Unbeknownst to any of her parents when her soul is like this, it changes her. She feels basically nothing, no fear, no sadness, no guilt or empathy. She realised at a young age that this was her super power.

In this mode she could do anything and not suffer any emotional consequences.

It started with stealing cookies from the biscuit tin at age 9 and evolved into hurting bully's at school. Then into giving food poisoning to rude customers by mixing up syrups to slip into drinks to make people ill.

For the most part she stays out of this mode, only dipping in when she felt she needed to test how far she could push it.

When she was 15 she started to consider pushing it to the limit.

She was watching the news and found out about some kind of abuser or murder being arrested and she thought. Why do we let people who do such horrible things live? Wouldn't it be better if they were dead? Then she realised, with her super power, could she kill someone?

When she was 16 she had her first kill. They were robber shed caught beating someone in an alleyway. (I don't know to much about this yet so I'll need to think more about it) but afterwards, she realised that she'd been right in the fact that she didn't feel guilty. She could use this to make the world a better place!

She didn't kill again for about a year. (just incase, I wanna point out that I'm not saying that what Agave does is justified. She's just an ship kid, a act of fiction and not ment to be taken seriously)

So anyway, by age 17 Agave makes her second kill and continues on that path. These are alot more thought out and planned. Her method of choice is through creating poisonous syrup and killing people that way, though she isn't above a good old knife death. Her Baba taught her well. She also carries around chemicals to clean blood and things like that.

She doesn't like her victims to dweal in pain and gets the deaths over quickly and painlessly. She gets no pleasure from causing pain to others, and when she doesn't have a target soul it makes her upset to hurt people.

Agave ended up calling her killer mode 4Loko. That's the name for her alterego the serial killer. She separates 4Loko from herself and doesn't want it to impact her Day to day life. So she will use make up to cover the birth mark on her face. When she's in her 20s she ends up working as an hireable assassin for killing criminals. But more on that later.

Non of her parents know about her double life. But that doesn't mean no one does.

Rem has always kept a close eye on his little sister. Over the years he noticed her odd behaviour and her collection of 'syrups' that she keeps in her room hidden.

During her 17th year he confronts her about what she does (which was a huge mess) the two fought as she attempted to stab him through the soul with her knife. She couldn't let him live if he knew right? She would have been able to but she just couldn't bring herself to hurt him. Since she wasn't in target mode she just couldn't do it especially as he spoke to her and talked her down. (tbh it's actually a kind of sweet scene between them).

After he's calmed her Rem offers to help her kill people, and he's very happy to. (Rem has alot of darkness under his kind surface which I'm sure @thebluescreen would be more then happy to explain in better detail).

So the two grow closer through that.

And yeah, that's the basic run down of my Cciller baby.! Hope you like her! My barista turned murderer/hitman I figured this would be a good mix of both her parents.

You have no idea! How long I spent working on her colour scheme..... It took about a month till I finally had this one and I'm pretty happy with it. I hope I explained everything about her double life well, I wasn't sure how clear it is. If you have any questions, please ask.

<3

Whumpay 2021: Day 27 - Accident

Missing All the Fun

read on ao3 1636 words graphic depictions of violence, star wars, the clone wars, prequels, obi-wan kenobi, anakin skywalker, hurt!obi-wan kenobi, fighter accident

Blast, this is why I hate flying.

Obi-Wan considered himself an excellent pilot (though he would never say so), but he still hated anything to do with flying. He wasn’t sure which he hated more, Anakin flying, or himself having to go into battle in his fighter.

Right now it was definitely the latter because if Anakin had been flying, perhaps his ridiculously fancy moves could have prevented all this. And by all this, well… First Obi-Wan had been fighting against the Separatist fleet, no problem, and then his ship had been shot at by vulture droids. Maneuvering away from those had caused him to crash into another fighter. His engines had died, but with nothing stopping his ship it just kept on moving. Now it’d been pulled into the planet’s orbit.

He didn’t fancy landing down there. All he saw as the ship was dragged in were mountains of ice and snow dotted with vast forests of deep green conifers.

Then, as if things weren’t bad enough, before he was within the atmosphere, the controls short-circuited, then overheated, and there was a fire in his cockpit. Problem with that was that the pressure was increasing. Increase enough, and… boom!

Not very pleasant, Obi-Wan decided.

The oxygen was decreasing too, the fire feeding off of it.

“Arfour, can’t you do anything about this?” Obi-Wan asked, voice pitched high with panic.

The droid beeped a non-committal answer at him even as she got to work.

In a few moments the computer was back online, except there was still the issue of the fire.

Arfour screeched and whirred at Obi-Wan as the ship plummeted into the atmosphere.

“No, no use,” he said, trying desperately to pull up. All that did was have the ship tilt wildly and then start barrel-rolling. Oh great. “Left engine’s still dead!” Arfour snapped at him. “Well, can you at least lower the pressure?” Obi-Wan asked, trying hard to not panic as the air became too hot, and his ears popped, and sweat was immediately soaked up from his body into the hot, dry air.

He tried to get control of the ship, feeling about it with the Force for some way to fix this predicament.

“Master, what kind of mess have you gotten yourself into this time?” Anakin asked.

Finally, someone who would know what to do.

“It’s not like I did it on purpose,” Obi-Wan argued.

Arfour sent him a message over the screen, and despite all the spinning and careening, he was able to take it in.

He tried to kill the engines, and thankfully air resistance and turbulence began to slow him down.

But still, there was Arfour’s plan.

“Are you serious?” he cried at her. “An explosion? Anakin, Arfour’s going to set off a controlled explosion on the ship.”

“With your pressure out of control that’s actually a great idea.”

Obi-Wan would’ve rolled his eyes if he wasn’t being thrashed about the cockpit.

“Of course he agrees with the droid,” he muttered.

“Arfour,” Anakin commanded, “hurry.”

“What?”

“Only way to depressurize the cockpit. Either that or I break the glass and you get sucked out and mercilessly crushed.”

“No, no thanks. I think I’ll stick with… with blowing up.”

Everything was beginning to grow blurry, the heat pressing in on him, smoke filling his lungs. He couldn’t even cough, had to just sit there and suffer from the forces around him that were out of his control.

The heat in the cockpit was rerouted to the back of the fighter, and a burst of explosion had the pressure returning to normal. Cold air filtered in, beginning to clear the smoke. Obi-Wan was relieved at being able to breathe properly again.

The explosion rocketed the ship forward and down, and Anakin began to join him in the insane dive.

“If I can attach my cables—”

“No use,” Obi-Wan said after a cough, gasping. “Your ship will just get caught up in this whole mess.”

Still, Anakin tried to attach the cable.

The cable attached just fine, but now his engines had to work doubly hard to try and slow the momentum of Obi-Wan’s fighter.

It pulled Anakin’s own fighter along, and to Obi-Wan’s surprise, he heard his former Padawan laughing. Laughing!

“Don’t tell me you’re enjoying this.”

“And you’re not?”

“I hate flying.”

“Don’t worry, Master. I got you.”

More cables were attached, and at the right angles to minimize the amount Anakin’s engines would have to work.

Obi-Wan’s ship slowed, but they couldn’t get it to stop.

It hit the trees, Anakin’s fighter detaching just beforehand, and then it collided with the icy, rocky ground.

~~~

The cockpit was being forced open when Obi-Wan came to. It was something he could feel more than he could see. Blood was dripping into his eyes, and his head absolutely ached. His whole body ached, his spine feeling as if it had been ripped from his body and then put back piece by piece in the wrong order. His tailbone and hips and even his pelvis were alight with pain, like it was some substance he’d been injected with.

Bitingly cold air met him, and then strong hands grabbed him. Groaning, he was dragged from the cockpit.

An arm wiped over his face, and he blinked open his eyes. Oh, fantastic. The world was spinning.

He tried to fight it, but it was too much. Anakin’s worried face amongst a cold, clear day swam in his vision. He closed his eyes, moaning in distress.

“Don’t worry, I called down a gunship. Kix and some of the other guys are on their way. Are you alright?”

“It’s bloody cold!” Obi-Wan complained.

Anakin must’ve shed his robe because then Obi-Wan was being lifted up, and it was being placed between him and the snow. The upper part of his body was dragged into Anakin’s lap.

A droid nudged at his arm, an arm he wished he could pull back from the stingingly frigid metal.

“Arfour…” he got out.

“Yes, she’s fine. Hey, Artoo, leave it! We’ll have to take his fighter back to a cruiser and get it fixed up there. There’s nothing you can do.”

“How… How bad is it?” Obi-Wan asked.

“You or the ship?”

Obi-Wan tried to laugh, but that jarred him too much, and he curled into Anakin, groaning in pain.

“Both.”

“Ship’s worse than you, so that’s good.”

“Well I can’t imagine what condition it’s in if I feel like this.”

“I did a scan before I got you out. Nothing’s broken.”

“Joy.”

Obi-Wan began to shiver in the cold. Anakin was as well, but he didn’t complain. Years ago he would’ve. Years ago he was a boy whose only concept was dastardly dry heat that felt like it could suck out one’s very will to live. Now here he was in the cold, probably turning blue like Obi-Wan, yet all he did was hold him, remain sturdy for him.

Guilt struck him at that, when his bleary and addled brain could make sense of it. He was the master wasn’t he? He was supposed to take care of Anakin. Not the other way around.

Yet there he was, holding him, doing what he could to shield him from the wind.

“We’re in the atmosphere, approaching your location now,” Obi-Wan heard through the comms, but didn’t really make sense of it.

His legs were beginning to have sharp pains shooting down them. There wasn’t much that could be done for now. He just hoped beyond hope that sometime soon someone would put a large, cushy pillow under his hips.

Anakin temporarily removed his arm from Obi-Wan and said into the comms, “Good, you’re missing all the fun.”

The wind picked up as the gunship came in. Obi-Wan opened his eyes, not able to take not fully knowing what was going on. Anakin swam in his vision. Besides that, his vision was beginning to work fine. But the information his brain was getting began to make less and less sense.

Anakin spoke, his voice seeming to be traveling through a vast tunnel, “Don’t worry, Obi-Wan. You’re gonna be alright.”

Obi-Wan reached up for him with a trembling arm, tried to nod, and then he lost all sense.

~~~

“Here!” Anakin called through the flurry of snow, waving his arm to get the attention of Kix and the men. They rushed over, and Anakin reluctantly relinquished his master to their care.

“Can your fighter get off-world?” Boil asked.

“I’ll be fine. Just get him stable and make sure he gets back to his cruiser in one piece. I’ll be along shortly. And get Arfour on board!”

“Right away, sir.”

Fives was shouting orders, and getting to work, even as the stretcher took Obi-Wan away.

Boil stayed behind to place a hand on Anakin’s shoulder, and just from that simple touch, he felt some of the tension coiled tight in him bleed out of him. “Don’t worry, sir. He’ll be okay. You did good.”

Anakin nodded, and grasped his arm. “You did too. Okay, get him home.”

With a nod, Boil was off, jogging to join the rest of the men.

“Force, it’s karking cold,” Anakin complained, body shuddering painfully as he climbed to his feet. “Artoo, come on. We still have a fight to win.”

Artoo beeped in excitement, and Anakin laughed.

Before he got into his fighter, he spared one last glance for Obi-Wan. The gunship doors slid closed.

Right. Now time to focus.

Anakin fired up the thrusters and the engines and took off. Through the comms he said, “Blue squadron, I’m coming back to you.”

“Good, we saved some blaster fire for you,” Broadside answered.

With a fierce grin, Anakin responded, “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

His fighter left the atmosphere, and then orbit. Back into the fray.

Hi again! hehe i see you want requests from the angst list so how about "why are you saying all these things? Where did they come from?" With chuuya bc i adore how you write him🧡 and for the relationship, lovers pls! thank you so much! I hope you have a lovely day/night!✨💕

Character: Chuya x reader

Warnings: cursing (obviously it’s Chuya)

Notes: Hi Clio! Thanks for requesting and so sorry about making you wait so long. This seems pretty bad to me but I hope this is okay! Thank you for the compliments! ❤

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The heart aches for what it cannot have but loves

“Good morning Princess.” he greets you with a sweet kiss on the forehead, making you sigh with content. You turn around in your shared bed to face him, looking up, you smile, “Good morning Chu.” you giggle.

He smiles lovingly at you, how did he end up so fortunate? It’s a question he frequently asks himself. He loved waking up like this, it was rather wholesome, very different from the world of the Port Mafia, but of course, you never knew about that other world.

That world in which blood shed and murderous intents reign, in a world which had no place for love. 

You both were in the kitchen, making breakfast together. The redhead hugged you from behind, burying his nose into the crook of your neck, “I love you so much.” he whispered. You had a fond smile plastered on your face, “I love you too.”

Waffles were laid onto the table in two saucers, one for each of you, sitting down, Chuya placed his hand on yours, you smiled. He loved it when you smiled, it was both his strength and his weakness.

The way you laughed, moved, loved, he couldn’t get enough of it. But he wouldn’t be able to enjoy such a luxury anymore.

Recently he’d been dealing with more and more dangerous missions. He had enemies of the Port Mafia to deal with, enemies of his own to deal with. It was frustrating to say the least.

He’d still make time for you though, saying he had to work over time, his real occupation was ambiguous to you. It was getting harder each day for him to keep it a secret, and to keep you a secret, the only reason he’d keep you a secret, is that he doesn’t want any sort of danger coming your way.

Chuya wouldn’t be able to forgive himself if any such thing had to happen to you. And it’d be all because of him.

Even though he had the fear of losing you when you both first started going out, it was more apparent in him now, he had realized. He’d sit in his office, sometimes pacing up and down or trying to get paperwork done. Fear would grip him, like a lion’s grip on it’s prey’s neck. 

He would wonder if you were safe at home or wherever you were. Even if the penthouse he lived in was the safest place on the earth, you couldn’t be too safe. Chuya would send you a message hourly, checking on you if you were safe and if you needed anything. You just thought he was being a protective boyfriend, of course, you were oblivious.

So when Mori gives him a mission one night, to deal with a rival gang of non-ability users, he figures it’d be no big deal. Once he arrived at said gang’s hideout, he uses his ability to knock down the door. “Hey motherfuckers, ready to die?” he asks with a smirk on his face.

Each gang member turned around, Chuya would expect them to quiver in fear, but they only returned the smirk. “Chuya Nakahara, Port Mafia executive.” one of them says chuckling. “Who knew such a violent being could have such a beautiful flower to call his own?”

Chuya raises his brow at this, he was rather confused for a second, but his eyes widened once he figured what they were hinting at. “Bastards, how do you kn-” he clenched his fists but got cut off, “Oh we know a lot about the Port Mafia, even the littlest of secrets, perhaps you’d like it if we ...did something, to that precious treasure you’ve got?” 

“...” Chuya didn’t say anything in reply, but his clenched fists and glowing figure spoke for him. The ground beneath him cracked, his ginger hair covering his eyes as he tilted his head down, “You’re gonna regret ever saying that.” his voice strained.

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That night he ended up covered in blood, not his own of course. He had made sure that he killed every one of them. He opened the front door of your shared home and closed it behind him with the heel of his shoe. He took of his coat and hung it on the coat hanger, his eyes drifted to your sleeping figure on the couch. 

You had fallen asleep waiting up for him. His eyes seemed heavy, he didn’t seem to know what to do. He kissed you on the forehead and picked you up gently not wanting to wake you up, he made his way to the bedroom and placed you on the bed. Covering you he planted another kiss on your head and went to change.

Once he was done, he sat on the edge of his side of the bed, he frowned, his head hurt from thinking so much. He placed his forefinger and thumb on his forehead and closed his eyes, “Who knew such a violent being could have such a beautiful flower to call his own?”  “Oh we know a lot about the Port Mafia, even the littlest of secrets, perhaps you’d like it if we ...did something, to that precious treasure you’ve got?”

He remembered those words, how did they come to know of your relationship? He didn’t sleep at all that night. Neither did he for a few nights after that, perhaps he was afraid something would happen to you if he did, maybe something would take you away. He had spent many days in his office thinking, many nights tossing and turning, but he’d come to a decision. It was a hard one...but it was one he had to make. It would keep you safe.

__________________________

"Why are you saying all these things? Where did they come from?" you asked with desperation in your voice, tears threatening to escape. 

Chuya had his back to you, his fist clenched, teeth gritted, his eyes...teary. “I just can’t! I don’t feel the same way as I used to for you! You’re nothing to me now.” he yelled. Tears streamed down your face, “...you don’t? Why so suddenly!?” you asked, you didn’t know what to say.

“...don’t you understand anything I’m telling you! I don’t want to be with you anymore, I’d only be pretending to love you if we do stay together...I don’t love you...not anymore.” he said the latter weakly. ‘But I do love you’ he thought.

“...” you couldn’t say anything more, you went into your shared bedroom and packed your things. That left him alone, tears streamed down his face, ‘But I do love you!’ he yelled in his head, ‘But I do want to stay with you!’

Once you had some essentials packed, you walked past him, “You know...” you stopped beside to a hault, “...I actually thought you were different from the rest...but you’re just like everybody else.” and with that you left, closing the door behind you.

He turned to look at you but found you were already gone. His eyes widened, tears decorated his face, his head felt as if it would burst. He fell back onto the couch, he held his head in his hands. “But you are everything to me!” he screamed into the emptiness.

“Good morning Princess.” “Good morning Chu.” you giggled. He remembered, he so painfully remembered. What a fool he was for thinking he could live a normal life with you. What a fool he was for thinking he could love you without hurting you.

“I love you so much.” he whispered. “I love you too.” you said with that smile he loved so much. He let out a wheeze, he was trembling, unable to keep in his cries for you. What a fool he was for thinking he could find love peacefully in a world full of blood shed.

The way you’d giggle when he’d tickle you, laughing with you. The way you’d play with his hair which always made him hum in pleasure and relaxation. The way you would move with him, dancing to each other’s love. But all that is gone now. The only good that came out of this, was that you’d be safe now, he’d have to cut off all relations with you, no matter how much it made his heat hurt.

__________________________

Chuya would see you now and then, but never interacting with you, he’d see you in the Yokohama’s streets with some other people, other times when you were by yourself, all he’d do is tilt his hat down to cover his eyes, shove his hands into his pockets, and move on.

He had to cover his eyes, or else that beautiful smile and eyes that would always entrance him would make him break down right then and there, it was now only his weakness.

Three Minutes to Eternity: My ESC 250 (250-241)

(Author's note: I intended to have the list ready by 1 September, but I was a bit lousy in compiling the final spots on there. As a result, they will seem a bit shoddy, but there will be good summaries, I promise! And there will be honorable mentions soon enough.)

#250: Harel Skaat -- Milim (Israel 2010)

“האור נרדם, דמעות של דם, שורפות לי בגרון, ידית שרוטה, תקרה שמוטה, כשאני שר לך את השיר האחרון” “The light fell asleep, tears of blood scorch my throat Scratched handle, sloping ceiling When I sing to you the last song” Curiously, I already knew of Harel Skaat before hearing of Eurovision: I listened to a few of his earlier tracks when I found him singing with another Israeli pop artist, Dor Daniel. I particularly liked משנו ממני and כמה עוד אפשר. Milim is a requiem for what was once lost—the presence of one whom the narrator really loves. The imagery used in this song adds to the melancholic feel—a classic ballad of sorts, with a lot of emotion. And the performance from Harel was very good, even though he butchered a note at the end. Maybe it was the pretty blue lights that really accompanied the mood of the song. Personal ranking: 7th/39 Actual ranking: 14th/25 GF (grand final) in Oslo

#249: Tina Karol -- Show Me Your Love (Ukraine 2006)

"You see it in my eyes, my heart is on fire Don’t hide your love away, don’t wait another day" As mentioned in the note, I had a hard time determining the last few spots on my list. I went through the results of both sorters and picked what I felt in the time. Show Me Your Love is a bit odd, but with the accordion intro striking right away, it deserves a place here! While an overly simple song with stilted lyrics, Show Me Your Love is still a bunch of fun. From the boppy beat to Tina's infectious presence on stage, one can't help but smile as this comes along. And there was a jump rope right in the middle of the performance--never change, Ukraine. :) Personal ranking: 5th/37 Actual ranking: 7th/24 GF in Athens

#248: Alan Sorrenti -- Non so che darei (Italy 1980)

“Non so che darei per fermare il tempo Per dormire al tuo fianco solo una notte Non so che darei per sentirti mia Per tenerti vicina solo una notte” “I don’t know what I can give to stop the time To sleep beside you only for one night I don’t know what I can give To take you close to me only for one night” Recently, I find myself humming to this a lot, because it's so calming and nice. I particularly like Alan’s vocals in this song! He really conveys the pain of losing (or on the verge of losing) the one he loves, expressed by the melancholic lyrics. Together, they form a song which is just as beautiful, if not more so than the winner of its year. Despite its 6th place, it became a continent-wide hit, which was quite deserved (just like a good number of Italian Eurovision songs over the years, haha)! Alongside that, Non so che darei also had the only black conductor at Eurovision while there was an orchestra, along with a couple of women playing fake guitars. For some reason, I imagined they were holding umbrellas instead, but I clearly remembered wrong... Personal ranking: 3rd/19 Actual ranking: 6th/19 in Den Haag

#247: Sanja Vucic ZAA -- Goodbye (Shelter) (Serbia 2016)

"I lick my wounds So that I can keep on fighting" Another last-minute choice, but this is an important song, both in 2016 and now, unfortunately. Despite the advances in women's rights over the decades, domestic violence still persists across the world. Goodbye (Shelter) tells the story through someone who's struggling to get out of a toxic relationship, and there's a mix of vulnerability and strength in the lyrics. Of course, lyrics don't make up the whole song; the music also conveys the story through a dramatic build and beautiful strings. Considering the 2016 contest, it does get a bit lost amongst the crowd, but it feels like a musical number in all the right ways. Also, the performance told the story well, and Sanja is a wonderful singer (she also sings a cover of one all-time favorite you will see towards the end, hehe). I even would shed a tear at points. Personal ranking: 8th/42 Actual ranking: 18th/26 GF in Stockholm

#246: Remedios Amaya--Quien Maneja Mi Barca? (Spain 1983)

“El verde de tus ojos verdes, mírame, Que mira que yo te mire, mírame, Que mira que yo te mire” “The green of your green eyes, look at me, Look at me, so I can look at you, look at me Look at me, so I can look at you” One of those songs that can be defined as an acquired taste--the people who love it enjoy its subversive status in the Eurovision canon for being unapologetically Spanish, while the people who hate it will dismiss it as just a bunch of noise. This is a song which is part of the “New Flamenco” genre popularized since the 1960s, which mixes up flamenco music with other genres, such as rock or electronic music. Quien Maneja mi Barca ‘s studio cut has nebulous lyrics combined with an electronic beat, which is alright at best. I found it quite hollow and quite forgettable there. I prefer it in its orchestral form, which fuses synths and concert instruments fantastically. It definitely amps up the drama with Remedios’ voice, and made me appreciate this very distinct entry. Personal ranking: 6th/20 Actual ranking: Joint last (with Turkey) in Munich

#245: Marianna Efstratiou - To diko sou asteri (Greece 1989)

"Μα στο βραδινό τον ουρανό το δικό σου αστέρι ψάξε βρες Γιατί οι σκιές στο πρώτο φως μοιάζουνε φοβίες παιδικές" "But in the evening sky, search and find your own star Because the shadows in the first light seem to be childish phobias" While To diko sou asteri sounds a bit safe in the grand scheme of things, I think its lack of pretension is what makes this little song shine. The lyrics encourage one to find their star and encourage the listener to pursue what they believe in without any fear. Marianna's vocals also add to this song in that they're quietly hopeful and sweet. Also, for some reason, I got some "True Colors" vibes while listening to it every time, despite there being some differences. Both have this relaxing, calm vibe to help the listener on their journey through life. Then again, True Colors doesn't have some nice flute flourishes throughout the song, haha. Personal ranking: 4th/22 Actual ranking: 9th/22 at Lausanne

#244: Dina -- Amor d'agua fresca (Portugal 1992)

"Peguei, trinquei e meti-te na cesta Ris e dás-me a volta à cabeça" "I picked you, bit into you and put you in the basket You laughed and made my head spin" 1992 is one of the most average years at Eurovision--after the chaos that was 1991, it seems like the songs and production sought something safer, and the whole thing felt really bland. Amor d'agua fresca is anything but dull--it's bubbly and sweet, with quite relaxed atmosphere. The combination of instruments--particular the guitar in the beginning and Dina's vocals-- really help with conveying a mood. But after that, we have the lustful lyrics, describing a romance through enjoying different fruits, which was quite different for me... But hey, different makes things quite a bit better in life! Personal ranking: 4th/23 Actual ranking: 17th/23 in Malmo

#243: Lucia -- Él (Spain 1982)

"Él me perdona porque es un pedazo de buen pan Y me trata con paciencia Sé que no debo ser cruel Que le debo confesar que él a mí, no me interesa" "He forgives me because he’s a scrap of good bread And he treats me with patience I know that I shouldn’t be cruel That I should tell him I’m not interested in him" One interesting thing about me is that I'm a sucker for tango music. There's a sense of drama when one listens to it, and even more so when people get on the dance floor. While I've only danced it a few times, when one does it right, the connection between two people is quite powerful, and you could fall right into a dream. El definitely amps up the drama--Lucia is in a conflicted relationship, but she plays the "player" role quite well. It's very flirty and seductive, and you could immerse yourself in the story. While the dancing was a bit too much for a stage as small as 1982's, it's still quite fun to see. Also, it was sent as a way of supporting Argentina in the Falkland Wars, which is quite interesting... Personal ranking: 4th/18 Actual ranking: 10th/18 in Harrogate

#242: Gabriela Gunčíková -- I Stand (Czech Republic 2016)

"I am thanking you, you made me You are my air, I’ll always care" For those who have an aversion to ballads, why is that? I find it annoying because there can be ones where they can touch you and tell a story. Life can't always be happy bops with heavy beats (or it's because they don't really inhabit my musical atmosphere most of the time...) I Stand sounds like a derivative ballad sonically, but it carries itself with such grace and grandeur. The instruments add to the drama of the song, which thanks a special person for their help in their life (though the lyrics above can come off as a bit co-dependent...or so I've heard) And Gabriela delivers this with the necessary composure and grace the song desires. It feels like a highlight track from a musical--one where two characters meet again and the narrator wants to recognize the latter's good deeds before they're gone forever. Thanks to that, the Czech Republic gets their first grand final appearance (though getting 0 televote points once there was harsh...) Personal ranking: 7th/42 Actual ranking: 25th/26 GF in Stockholm

#241: t.A.T.u -- Ne ver, ne boysia (Russia 2003)

“Кто-то понты а кто-то маньяк, Кто-то как ты, кто-то как я.” “Someone's a psycho and someone's a maniac, Someone like you, someone like me” If I’m right, I may have heard this song without knowing this was from Eurovision. It was because there was a period between middle school and high school where I love t.A.T.u’s music, and this was one of their singles. Ne Ver Ne Bosia is compelling and dark, with an interplay about the people around them using an old Soviet proverb as the title. It’s gripping and intense, and brings the listener into this crazy and mad world they're enveloped in. The performance, on the other hand, almost couldn't have been worse. The vocals were really ropey (especially from Lena, who would usually be trusted to help Yulia), and it didn't come over as a great listening experience. While I love it, t.A.T.u were really lucky they competed in the televote era, as they would've been struck down hard by the juries. (and the worst part: there will be a couple of poorly-performed entries which will be quite high on this list...) Personal ranking: 6th/26 Actual ranking: 3rd/26 in Riga

Survey #452

“what i’ve felt, what i’ve known, never shined doing what i’ve shown  /  never free, never me, so i dub thee unforgiven”

Are you a part of the LGBTQ+ community? I am. Do you have Tiktok? Are you addicted? I don't. Do you enjoy being outside? IF it's cool outside, yes. Do you like being around kids? No, not really. Have you ever gotten Covid-19? No. What's your ethnicity? Caucasian. If you were president, what's the first change you would make? I'd probably put in place free healthcare first. What is an animal that you'd like to have as a pet but it's not allowed? If an animal shouldn't be a pet, there's a reason. So none. What was your favorite meal as as kid? Has it changed now? It was spaghetti. I still love it, but it's not my favorite now. Which doctor is your least favorite? Primary, eye, dentist, gynecologist, etc. Potential TMI answer follows. So, the VERY easy answer is gynecologist. Like, I've never even BEEN to one because I'm too scared. Not because I think they'll find anything wrong, but because I'm just very self-conscious about stuff like that and I do fucking not want some random stranger laying a goddamn finger on me like that. My doctor is really pushing me to go by now though as a safety precaution, but I just really, really don't want to. Do you feel that you'd be any good at solving a murder? No. I'm so clueless. You own a dragon, but it doesn't breathe fire; what comes out instead? Water, I guess? That could be beneficial in a lot of ways. Have you ever been sprayed by a giant rain puddle when a car passed by? No. Do you remember the last movie you saw while on a date? Yeah, IT with Girt. What color is your iPod? Hot pink. Do you think baby clothes are adorable? Ha ha yeah, I just tend to like miniature things in general, and babies are just... miniature humans lmao. Whose house did you last sleep over at? Sara's. If you could adopt 3 unique pets, what would you get? A plains hognose morph (probably a lavender, or snow?), a Brazilian black tarantula, andddd... an African fat-tailed gecko morph. What grade are you in, if you’re still in school? I'm not in school. Do you get a lot of tourists in the area where you live? Hell no, there's not shit here. Do you enjoy watching vlogs? Only occasionally by certain people I like. What was the last new video game you were excited about? It really sucks I don't have the appropriate console to play it myself, but I was SUPER stoked for Resident Evil 8: Village to be released and literally watched like four different playthroughs at the same time, ha ha. Have you ever talked about your period with a guy? Were they okay with it, or grossed out? In a three-and-a-half years intimate relationship, it obviously came up before. He didn't care, because he wasn't 12. Have you ever been to small church/bible group/study? Forced to or wanted to? I was forced to go to Sunday school, as well as church. Have you ever been to an Asian (any type) market? If so, what is the closest one to you? I've never seen one here, even. How would you feel if your significant other had tattoos? That'd be a bonus to how physically attracted I was to them, probably, lol. I just love tattoos. Where was the last place on your body that you felt physical pain? My uterus is screaming. :') What are you listening to right now? I am fucking unhealthily obsessed with Violet Orlandi & Skar's cover of "The Unforgiven" by Metallica lkasdjkflawjerwr like I will not stop listening to it lol. Last person you texted? My mom. Have you ever gone out of your way to make someone happy? Yes. Is there a certain person that makes you feel safe? My mom. Have you ever used a chainsaw? Nooo, and I don't want to. Do you celebrate Christmas, Hanukkah, or Kwanzaa? crihmuh Ever been so stunned, no words came out? Oh yes. Ever written that you were going to end your life? I have. I was fucking stupid and made a suicide note on Facebook. I genuinely wanted everyone on there to know what they meant to me, so like it seriously wasn't for attention, which I still worry people think that. Ever put fake bugs around your house to scare someone? Not to scare people, no. I have two faux tarantulas in my room as decor, though. Is there a reason you have the name you do? Not particularly. My parents just liked it, ig. Choose: the best song by Green Day? Aw, that's way too hard! I love Green Day. I guess if I absolutely had to pick, maybe "21 Guns." It's just a truly beautiful song. Have you ever tried to “save”, or “fix” someone, before? No. I don't believe that works and only damages you. Were ethics discovered or invented? That's a good question. I really can't say I know. Do you put effort into getting tan during the summer? Nah. Are you a fairly self-motivated person? NO. I need external motivation pretty badly. Be honest, does the person you like actually deserve you? Or are they actually not worthy of your affections? I don't deserve him. List 5 things that have been on your mind most recently. 1.) wtf I feel about Girt and wtf to do about it; 2.) my weight; 3.) what job I'm going to search for once I make progress at the gym; 4.) whether or not to quit photography and focus my efforts elsewhere; and 5.), as always, Jason. What is better, history or science? Science is way more interesting. Do you flinch at the sight of blood? No. Do you enjoy swimming? Yeah. When you swear, is it usually in general or directed at someone? In general. I don't generally swear at people. Are any of your friends hoping to be famous one day? Yeah; I've got a couple of musician friends. Who would you kiss right now if you could kiss anyone? GO AWAY Ever slapped a guy in the face? No. I don't hit people. Do you think you’re a good friend? I sure try to be. Have you ever thrown your cell phone in anger? When? I have on only one occasion when I Jason and I were texting and he pissed me off. I don't remember what we were even talking about now. My phone was fine btw, ha ha, I didn't like, chuck it. What color of hair do you find the sexiest on the opposite gender? Out of the natural hair colors, black. But I really like hair that's dyed exotic colors on like... anyone. Have you slept over at a member of the opposite sex’s house in their bed? Yeah. When you lost your virginity, were you sober? Yeah. Have you ever given your phone number to somebody you met online? Quite a few people, actually. Most of my friendships are online. On average, how much does gas cost where you live? When I was out today, it was $2.99. Why are you happy? Who said I was? I'm not happy. What is in your pocket? Nothing. What was the worst feeling you last felt? Severe indecision. Worthlessness. Yesterday had some grim periods. What would you name your future son? I always answer with the first name, "Damien," so let's see about a middle name... uhhhh... maybe Damien James? I'm not really sure about a middle name, but that sounds nice. What are you waiting for? Girt to message me back. He barely touches Facebook, so I can't blame him, but I wanna plan a day for him to visit and we can hang and I can decide what the fuck it is I feel towards him. What takes your breath away? Big waterfalls, to name a major one. What fact of life would you rather not know about? That the world doesn't give a fuck about you. It sounds super pessimistic, I know, but it doesn't. There is no sentience to it, no will to keep you safe and happy, it just... exists, and we're thrown onto it to figure it out. Unfair things happen. That's life. ... Damn, this answer was dark lol. What’re a few things that automatically make you go, “Awww?” Meerkat pups doing so much as blinking, guys being really cute with kids, seeing elderly couples holding hands and just generally being precious, proposals (especially gay ones just because of how hard that was fought for), seeing literally any picture in existence of Mark and Amy together, veterans coming home and their dogs freaking out... Man, a lot of things. This question brightened my mood to think about. :') Are you easily scared by horror movies? Nah. You just got a free plane ticket to anywhere. You have to depart right now. Where are you gonna go? Illinois to visit Sara. :') I really wanna hang. Do you know anyone with the same birthday as you? No, but a former best friend had her bday a day before mine. Are you wearing a ring? I always wear two. Do you hate to hug people? No, I love hugs. How many rooms does your house consist of? Seven. If you could be on any TV show, which would it be and why? Can I be a Pokemon trainer, pls???? What would you want to be famous for? Most ideally, a great wildlife photographer. The kind photography students would see and be inspired by. Do you sleep with a stuffed animal? No, I sleep with a real animal, ha ha. What is your favorite brand of hairspray? I don’t have one. What is in your backyard? Not very much... I'm barely ever even out there, so I barely know. There's one shed, a small tree, and uh... idk. Who is/was your favorite teacher? I have a few. Mrs. Whitley, Mr. Proctor, Coach Collie, and Miss Tobey are some. What’s your favorite non-sexual thing to do with a girl/boy? Play video games together. Do you cheer for the bad guy? Ha, I have a tendency to do that... Would you rather start a new career or a new relationship? Career. I want one so very badly. Something on the human body that grossest you out the most: So even though I am sexually attracted to any gender, nevertheless, genitalia gross me the fuck out. Either kind. Penises especially though like what the fuck- Do you think it’s easier to raise a boy a girl? Why? From most parents, I've heard boys are much easier because girls (supposedly) tend to have more of an attitude. What is your favorite strawberry flavored food? Strawberry is generally my favorite flavor for like, everything, so this is just about impossible. Maybe uhhh slushies? What is the oldest video game system you’ve played? An Atari.

A rose in shadows - Chapter seven

Chapter 7 - The game is on

When you had bid John and Mary goodbye and watched them go their own way to change and catch their train for their honeymoon, you headed back to the flat with Mrs. Hudson and Gladstone. You smiled as Mrs. Hudson left to make you a cup of tea. You took Gladstone upstairs, promising to take good care of him until John and Mary returned. You let him off his leash and followed him into the flat.

With the wedding over, you changed into something more simple and comfortable for the rest of the evening. You sat down in Sherlock's armchair by the window and reached for your little notebook. Inside were little notes and paragraphs of your days in Baker Street. John kept his own journal of adventures with Sherlock, so you were inspired to write your own, though not quite as in depth as John's.

Gladstone made himself comfortable by your feet. You smiled at him and began to write down about the wedding. Mrs. Hudson brought up your tea and placed it on the table beside you. You thanked her and watched her leave you alone once more.

When you were done writing, and your cup was empty, you most have dozed off, for you were woken by light shaking at your shoulders.

"Y/N, my dear, we don't have time to waste."

You blinked your eyes open and took a moment to gather your thoughts. Sherlock was crouched over you, a hand resting on your arm and a smile on his face.

"Sherlock? You're back! I'm sorry, I must have been more tired than I thought."

"No need to apologise, but we must hurry. What time is Watson's train leaving?" He got up and hurried across the room, taking off his suit from the wedding. You got up quickly.

"Uh, I think it leaves in about an hour, give or take." You watched him rush about the apartment. "Sherlock? What's happening? What's going on?"

Sherlock stops. His back his facing you and he's gripping something in his hand. You approach him quietly and come to stand in front of him. Sherlock turns to face you, his eyes seemingly lost. You gaze down at his hand as he holds out to you. You reach out slowly and take the handkerchief from him. You feel a chill run down your spine as you turn it over and see the initials on it.... and the blood stain.

"Oh... Sherlock.... Is she...?"

Sherlock covers the handkerchief with his hand and looks you in the eye. He uses his other hand to make you look up at him.

"I have to protect you and John."

"Sherlock-"

"The game has begun. I cannot afford to lose."

You let out a breath you didn't know you were holding and waste no time wrapping your arms around Sherlock, pulling him for a hug. It had been a long time since you had last done this with him. He missed your warmth, not that he would ever admit to that. His arms wrapped around you and he pulled you close to him, savouring the moment.

Really, there wasn't time for this, but he couldn't let this moment slip him by.

"Come on, we better get ready." You say quietly in his ear.

"Right, get changed. We have a train to catch."

You pull away from him and nod, hurrying to change clothes. Sherlock needed you and you were not about to let him down. Especially where John was concerned.

You changed into a pair of grey trousers, a blouse, a jacket to match the trousers and put on a hat. There was no doubt with Sherlock that there would be running involved. Just as you finished adding the final touches, you turned around and came to a stop.

"What are you wearing?"

In front of you stood the detective in a dress, less elegant than anything you had ever seen, a wig and bonnet on his head, and blue eye shadow heavily caked over his eyelids.

"A disguise."

You blinked slowly.

"Right... I mean, no one will recognise you, but dear lord..." You shake your head. "Those colours aren't very flattering on you."

"No? I thought I looked rather dashing."

"Clearly there is something wrong with your mirror."

"Are you ready?" He asks, letting none of your comments get to him.

"Yes. Am I going first, or am I to be seen walking alongside you?"

Sherlock came over to your side and reached for your hand, bringing it his lips and kissing it.

"I always want to be seen walking with you."

"Yeah, but I don't mean dressed like that." You chuckle. "Come on, he train will leave the station soon."

~

John and Mary boarded the train on platform 7. Their arms were linked and they both smiling and chatting to one another. It had been a wonderful day and quite possibly more than either one could have asked for.

"Which coach are we?" Mary asks, as they walk alongside the train.

"We should be just here." John uses his cane to point up ahead.

Mary gives a little gasp. "Ooh!" They have come to a stop outside a first class carriage. John was giving her only the best. "First class." Mary steps onto the train.

John looks further down the platform to see men in uniform loading the train with cases.

Mary pops her head out of the door and smiles at her husband.

"Hurry up, Dr. Watson, your wife needs you."

"Coming, Mrs. Watson."

He climbs onto the train. Their carriage is very nice. Mary picks up a bottle that has been left for them.

"Ooh, first class, champagne. You do know how to spoil a girl, Mr. Watson." She grins at him.

"You're not just any girl." He tells her as he passes her to look out into the aisle. He takes a look in both directions, watching as one man stops a lady from entering the lavatory. Seeing nothing of interest, he returns to his wife, sliding the door shut behind him. "You're Mrs. Watson." He looks at the bottle in her hand. "Give me that bottle."

She hands it over.

~

You sit in the carriage Sherlock had managed to book for you both. The door slides open and Sherlock enters.

"Well?"

"They are two rooms over." He smiles at you.

"And non the wiser right now. Are you sure he's coming after Watson?" You ask, your voice dropping.

"Yes, certain. Concerned?"

"Very."

You both look at each other. You smile softly.

"I trust you, Sherlock. You know I do."

"But you haven't forgiven me."

"What do you mean?"

"You're still not wearing your ring." He gestures to your hand. You sigh as you shake your head.

"Sherlock..."

"Y/N."

"Just.... forget about it." You turn your gaze away from him and move over slightly, putting space between you both. You don't like how hung up he about that silly little ring. He can't honestly expect you to be over his behaviour the last few months. You decide to sit on the opposite seat and look outside. All the while you can feel his gaze on you.

~

The train travels for quite some time. The hour grows late.

You don't speak to Sherlock unless you deem it necessary, updates on anything he might think is wrong.

Meanwhile, Mary and John were enjoying themselves in their compartment. Mary was sitting across the good doctor's lap, both of them busy kissing one another. The exact opposite of what was going on with you and Sherlock.

"John, there is nowhere else in the world I would rather be." Mary says, all her emotions coming out in that one sentence.

"There's no one I'd rather be with." He tells her.

"Why do you have a gun stuffed down the back of your trousers?" Mary holds the gun up and looks at it.

"Old habits." John chuckles.

They are interrupted by a knock on the door. Mary slides from John's lap and leans into his side.

"Come in."

A man wearing the uniform for the train stands in the doorway holding a bottle of champagne. He holds it out to them. Mary smiles.

"Oh, yes, please."

"We didn't order that." John says.

"With out compliments, Sir." The man nods.

"Thank you. Put it there." John gestures across from them.

The man enters the compartment and closes the door behind him. Just as the door slides shut, the lights flicker out. The man pulls out a small knife and lunges at John. Mary gasps. As John grabs the man's wrist, Mary stands up and leans against the door. John and the man fight, John avoiding the knife, he man swinging at him. Watson manages to pin the man to the seat.

Still holding the gun, Mary holds it up at the man.

"Open the door, John." She tells him.

John opens the door leading outside.

"I think it's time for you to leave." She says, looking down at the man.

John pulls the man up and with one swift motion, pushes the man out of the train.

"Sit down." John says to Mary. He takes the gun from her. She appears to be in a bit of shock as she catches her breath. John signals for her to be quiet as he moves over to the door. He pulls it open and leans against the frame, looking out. There is nothing to his left, but as he looks right he spots the lady from earlier leave her compartment and then turn and quickly elbow the solider coming down the aisle. John ducks back into the compartment as the "lady" grabs the gun from the solider and shoot down the train where others have gathered.

Sherlock clears the soldiers at both ends and turns around to come face to face with John.

You stick your head into the aisle and come out once you see it's safe. You hurry over to Sherlock's side.

"I agree it's not my best disguise." Sherlock says to John.

You furrow your gaze at him. "Funny, you thought it suited you earlier."

Sherlock enters the compartment, John holding him by the shoulder. You stand in the door looking at them.

"My God." Mary looks at Sherlock.

"They'll be back." Sherlock says, holding out the fun to John. He gestures for you to come inside, so you slide in next to him. You give John and Mary an awkward smile.

"Oh. John, shut the door." Mary sighs.

"They'll only shoot through it, my love."

"He's right, you know."

"Oh, my God." Sherlock helps Mary sit down. You take the seat opposite them.

"I understand."

"Do you?"

"Terribly inconvenient." Sherlock stands. "We don't have much time." He leans out of the train, looking ahead. In a moment the train would reach the bridge.

"How many are expecting?" John asks, keeping his eyes on the aisle.

"Half a dozen."

"Who are they?"

"A wedding present from Moriarty." Sherlock stand back up in the compartment and looks at Mary. "Lovely ceremony, by the way. Many a tear shed in joy."

"Oh, John?" Mary calls for her husband.

"Yeah, just a minute, darling." He shoots his gun.

"Do you trust me?" Sherlock asks, holding Mary up.

"No."

"Well, then I shall have to... do something about that."

You watch as Sherlock pushes Mary from the train. She screams all the way down until she hits the river. Sherlock removes the hat and looks at you as John yells at the soldiers.

"Nicely done." You mutter.

"Do you wish to join her?"

"No."

He gives you a quick grin before looking up at John.

"John, do shut the door." Sherlock orders.

John closes the door and turns around. He takes great notice that someone is missing.

"It had to be done." Sherlock says, raising his hands.

John hurries to the open door and looks out, realising what Sherlock had done. You wait with baited breath.

"She's safe now." Sherlock states.

John turns sharply and stares at Holmes with a cold look.

"In my own defence, I timed it perfectly."

John grabs Sherlock around the neck and pulls him down to pin him onto the floor.

"Did you kill my wife?" John yells, holding Sherlock by the scruff of his neck. "Did you just kill my new wife?"

"Of course not!" Sherlock yells.

John punches him.

"What do you mean?" He grabs Sherlock's face and makes him look at him. "How do you know that when you just threw her off a train?"

"I told you, I timed it perfectly!"

"What does that mean?!" John tears away Sherlock's shirt. You watch silently as the wrestle on the floor. Sherlock has a leg over John's shoulder.

"Calm down."

"EXPLAIN!"

"By the time I've explained we'd both be dead!"

The door slides open and a rifle cocks as a soldier leans into the room. The barrel is pointed directly at John. You take the next moment to slide from the seat and get down on the floor beside the boys.

What John doesn't know, but you spotted because Sherlock had told you what he did, was that the rifle has a thin tube of lipstick jammed into it, well the lid of the lipstick. When given the chance, he got to work. When the conductor told him the lavatory was closed, he slipped past him and unlocked the door when the conductor left. He could see the soldiers through a small peep hole. He used what was available to him in that small toilet to black out the electricity on the train, just as another passed by, make a distraction with a flammable powder to urge a coughing fit onto the soldiers, and coat them in the flammable powder, and replace a bullet with his tube of lipstick. He kept the bullet for himself. Sherlock knew exactly what he was doing.

The man fires the rifle, the bullet slides down the barrel only to reach the tube of lipstick in the end. This causes the gun to backfire and the men to go up in flames.

Sherlock pushes John off of him and sits up.

"That was no accident." Sherlock lifts up his skirt. "That was by design." He grabs the chain from toilet and jams it into the carrier above your head and then through the door handle.

You take Sherlock's hand as he helps you up off the floor. You can't help but glance down as his bare chest.

"Now... do you need me to elaborate..." He pulls off the skirt, "or can we just crack on?" He asks John.

Sherlock turns to the open door and climbs out, shuffling along the side of the train. You glance at John before you follow Sherlock out, following his lead. John climbs out after you, not left with much choice.

"Don't worry, old boy, she's as safe as house." Sherlock yells out. "She's with my brother."

"I'M ON MY HONEYMOON!" John yells back. "WHY DID YOU LEAD THEM HERE?! WHY DID YOU INVOLVE US?"

"They aren't here for him!" You shout at John. "They're here for you."

"Fortunately...." Sherlock leans back enough to see the open door you had all emerged from. A soldier is sticking his head out. John turns to see him. The man raises his gun to shoot, but just like before the whole room is up in flames and the man is blasted out from the train.

For a moment you lose your footing as the train shakes, but you feel and arm pulling you back up. You turn to see Sherlock holding onto the train with one hand, the other holding you up.

"So am I." Sherlock yells at John, but he's looking at you. "Now mind the door!" Sherlock pulls the nearest door open and climbs inside. You climb around the door and follow him.

"Good evening." He addresses the people he had just disturbed. He opens the door to the train aisle and holds up a gun. "I think you'll find that second class is more comfortable." He tells the couple. "The coast is clear." He gestures to the door after checking the aisle. "To the South, quick march!" He claps his hands and speaks loudly, scaring them out of the carriage.

John finally climbs into the train, closing the door behind him, while Sherlock closes the other.

By the time John has turned around to face you both, he finds Sherlock laying on the floor, you sprawled across him. He has one arm around you keeping you close to his bare chest. You're not sure where to look.

"Lie down with us, Watson."

"Why?" John groans.

"I insist." With his free arm, Sherlock pulls John down onto the floor.

You have to move your head a bit as Sherlock pulls out his pipe and lights it. This causes you to press against him a bit more. You can tell Sherlock had done this on purpose, he was enjoying this.

"What are we doing down here?" John asks, looking over at the pair of you.

"We are waiting. I am smoking." Once the pipe is lit, he wraps his arm back round you again. You have very little option but to succumb to resting your head on him and looking towards John awkwardly.

A beat of silence passes.

Then all at once gun fire explodes through the train. You close your eyes as the wood of the wall splinters into the air. Sherlock's arm squeezes around you as he pulls you into him, shielding you from the debris. John turns over to hide his own face, as Sherlock does the same, only leaving enough room for him to continue smoking.

"Patiently waiting."

"For what?" John asks, yelling over the noise.

Sherlock holds up a gun to John.

"Your window of opportunity."

The gunfire stops. Sherlock's little swap earlier on in the evening had paid off. The lipstick had been caught within the gun, stopping it. Knowing this was his opportunity, John sat up. He looked through the hole in the wall where he could see the soldiers at the far end. He raised his gun and held it up, just as the soldier lined up perfectly, he shot. When his friend had fixed the gun, John ducked down. They started firing again.

"I said make it count!" Sherlock had rolled over to the point where you were between both men. He was still protecting you from the debris falling above. "How many windows must I provide?"

In the next moment there was an explosion.

What you didn't see was when John shot the solider, he had pulled the pin from a grenade. The grenade fell into the sack beside the soldier, which was full to the brim of grenades. Therefore, tragedy on their end.

The explosion had caused half the train to disconnect.

When it had grown quiet, you all got up off the floor. Sherlock had led you all the last carriage, which was torn in two. You sighed and sat down, looking out at the tracks. Sherlock grabbed a coat that he passed earlier, forgotten by it's original owner. He draped it around our shoulders. You smiled softly at the warmth.

John sat a little ahead of you, staring out. He had every right to be angry with Sherlock.

Today was supposed to be the happiest day of his life.

"Who'd have known that honeymooning in Brighton was such a dangerous notion?" Sherlock said, sitting down beside you, now dressed to and extent.

"Is that what this is about?"

"By your own admission, you've never enjoyed it there."

"I've never been to Brighton!" John says loudly.

"Or you're just too fragile to remember it at present."

"Shut up, Sherlock." You say, done with their bickering.

"Tell me my wife is safe." John demands.

"I can't do both." Sherlock says, looking between you and John. You roll your eyes and sigh. Now he's just being childish. "I promise, as I said, I timed it perfectly."

Mary was pushed while the train crossed the bridge, her landing being a river. Sherlock had told you that Mycroft would be on a boat, approaching the bridge at that time. She would be safe with him.

"Why were Mary and I targeted at all?" John asked.

"Excellent question. The answer is twofold."

"He's after us because of you."

"I'm afraid you must bear half the responsibility." Sherlock claimed.

"Here it comes." John uttered.

"Had you and Mary..."

"So predictable."

"...not been so hell-bent on your wedding, we could've already solved this case."

"There it is. Oh, it's my fault now."

"All I'm saying is the argument could be made..."

"No, it couldn't."

"...That your nuptials were rather poorly timed. Thus, our relationship..."

"Relationship?"

"Very well, partnership... has not yet run its course." Sherlock had gone over to stand next to John.

You had fought the urge to yell at the, to tell them to grow up and shut up, but you couldn't stop the smile from appearing on your face at the end.

"My dear fellow, if you could be bothered to see this through to the end... I shall never again ask you to assist me." Sherlock said.

Silence fell between the boys. You watched curiously.

"Once more unto the breach." John held up a finger, a warning to Sherlock.

"That's the spirit." Sherlock glanced back at you and you smiled, shaking your head lightly at him. Your detective got what he wanted. "Now, to the question. This is so deliciously complicated. You may be asking yourselves what does a criminal mastermind want with a simple gypsy fortune teller? It's her brother, I tell you."

"When we find him, and we must..."

"After you find my luggage." John points out. "Go on."

Sherlock turns.

"Wait!"

Sherlock turns back.

"Where is it we're going?" John asks. You look up to Sherlock, not knowing any more of the plan other than what took place on this train tonight.

"Paris... The most sensible honeymoon destination of all."

John smile.

You chuckle.

You get and move to sit next to John, who smiles as you join him.

"How are you holding up?" He asks.

"Alright."

"You're tagging along with Sherlock?"

"Yes."

"I was under the impression you weren't all that happy with him." John raises a brow in your direction.

"Water under the bridge." You shrug. "Sherlock is Sherlock, I need to get used to that." You glance behind you to see Sherlock was looking away. You pulled a chain from under your shirt and showed it to John.

"Ah yes, he mentioned a ring."

"I took it off because I was mad at him, but... I can't stay mad at him."

"But you don't want him to know you have it with you?"

"Oh God no, do you have any idea what that will do to his ego?" You ask, grinning.

You both laugh.

Sherlock looks up at the sound of your laughter. It was a wonderful sound, and one he hadn't heard in a while. He vowed there and then to himself that he was going to make it right.

He was going to make you happy again.

Tags: 

@hufflepuff-pide-honey-badger @theatricalbride @phantomofhogwarts @awyr @fandombeehive @charmed-asylum @sigynbandraoi-blog @procrastinatingmurder @madshelily @photography-to-all @sitkafay @melancholicsthings @misspoisonouslove

Five, err, Four Favorite Passages

Tagged by @gunbun !

I don’t have a whole lot to share yet, but what I do have, I’m very proud of so far, so I hope you enjoy it. I will be linking the stories after each passage when applicable (some of these will be WIPs). Thank you to people like gunbun, @autumnslance and everyone else who made me feel welcomed, it really means a lot.

Without further ado, here we go. (Light 5.0 spoilers)

1. My Heartfelt Feelings

“Ah, how sweet young love is.”

The Scion’s Rogue had begun his teasing even before any feelings were recognized or conveyed. Of course, such antics were either rebutted or outright ignored. Thancred was imagining things, of course there was a fondness there. Oda was an ally, a friend. Someone capable and reliable, if not on the side of unpredictable and wild under certain conditions. She was intelligent, kind and gentle in equal measure. Her casual mannerisms were a nice contrast to her own taciturn personality.

So then why, when she should be sleeping, was she silently watching her training under the Ala Mhigan moonlight?

She had witnessed her prowess first hand during her encounter with the primal Titan, from a safe distance and at the tail end of the encounter. But this….

It was so up close, more personal.

Each brutal THUD that rang out resounded off the stone walls surrounding the barracks as her lance dealt out punishment to the training dummy, over and over. The way she leapt back, landing nimbly and expertly, her tail stiff to keep her balanced. Her powerful, lean shoulder muscles flexing before she flung herself forward to unleash another string of precise, brutal strikes. Enthralling, entrancing, her movements were as fluid as a flowing river, as instant and devastating as a lightning strike.

“Y’shtola?”

Her heart jumped in her chest, but she was caught. Had she known the whole time?

“Ah, pray forgive me for spying on you, Oda.” Her calm tone betrayed her flustered state, but the way the beads of sweat rolled down her collarbones, disappearing into her cleavage wasn’t helping, or how her toned abs glistened in the light from the torches lighting the training area. Or so she gathered; Aethereal sight did lack for some more subtle detail.

“Pay it no mind.” The Dragoon smiled, that sweet, welcoming smile.

2. Unposted WIP (Oda’s backstory)

“Gods, they had a child.”

He quickly hissed an order at his men to cover and get the bodies of the victims out of the area; there was no need for the child to see them.

Indeed, within the ransacked remains of the family’s carriage, a small child curled up in the corner, her ears flattened against her head, holding her tail against her chest when Boernhelm shined a light inside. She looked at him with wide, frightened eyes, and he was momentarily surprised when he noticed that they were two different colors. The pair remained motionless, saying nothing. The girl, tense and rightfully terrified, and the man trying to appear as non threatening as he could; no use traumatizing the poor child any further.

“Hey, it’s okay, we won’t hurt you.” His tone changed from the stern, sometimes harsh tone he normally spoke with to a softer, gentler tone. If his men could hear him, they would likely think he was a completely different person. In all honesty, seeing this small girl hiding in a corner, likely thinking these were going to be her last moments, having likely heard her parents being mercilessly slaughtered….

“Come on, it’s okay. The bad men are gone, we’re going to help you,” he continued to patiently wait, trying to earn even a shred of trust from her. She couldn’t have been older than four, and already forced to witness how evil man could be, “Come on now.”

After what felt like an eternity, she shuffled towards him, seemingly trusting him enough to move from her hiding spot.

“I’m heading back to HQ. Secure the area and report back,” Beornhelm’s orders were quickly given as the girl clung to him. Even during the walk, she did not let go, or move her face from its spot buried in his chest.

Even after investigating into the identity of her parents, there was no one who came forward to take her in, and she had forgotten what her name was; some figured it was induced by the trauma she endured. Either way, Beornhelm had no choice but to adopt the child, whom he named Oda, into his home.

3. Another WIP (Post Vault)

With each strike, a sharp pain shot up her arm. Each time her fist slammed into the cold, stone wall outside of Camp Dragonhead, one could swear that cracks started to appear. The guards noticed her, of course, but none had the courage to approach her to ask her to stop, or even look in her direction for longer than a few seconds. They weren’t necessarily afraid of her, but none of them knew what to say to her. How do you console someone who’s grieving the loss of a dearest friend?

Each time his face appeared in her mind, another impact.

Each time she remembered his voice calling out to her in jubilation each time she walked through the door from the cold highlands, each time she remembered his genuine admiration when he spoke to her, his kind heart, his valiant nature….

Oda didn’t notice at first just how much blood was dripping into the snow from her now injured hand; knuckles scraped and cut open from repeatedly punching a frozen stone wall. It wasn’t the cold that made everything feel so numb….

No.

In all honesty the Warrior of Light had been naught but a walking shell for the past several days. It was hard enough to look Count Fortemps in the eye and confirm that yes, his son died protecting her. The only thing she really could say with any certainty, any clarity was that she was going to make the Archbishop and his cronies pay for what they did. Not just for perpetuating a war based on lies, but for ripping Haurchefant from her.

4. Reunited

“Y’shtola, you still love me, right?” She crossed her arms, looking away, “When you first saw me, and when you thought I was one of those things….even though I know it's because of the aether from the two slain Lightwardens….”

It still hurt.

It didn’t help that she seemed to be acting slightly differently around her. It had been three years in the First, in comparison to no more than a few weeks at best in the Source. That was a long, long time to wait on someone.

And she had been abandoned before.

“You fool. Do you even need to ask such a thing?”

“Please, yes or no.”

Instead of a direct response, Y’shtola tapped her chin with her knuckles, “...You know, shortly after I had arrived here, I was attending to my research, so that I might find a way to help the people of the First and return home to a certain Miqo’te Dragoon, when out of nowhere I felt as if I had been kissed, by a familiar set of lips. Warm and soft, with no shortage of affection.” She could feel that?

“Y-You did?”

“Why yes, I did. What, did you think you could wake the sleeping beauty with a kiss?” She chuckled, but where under different circumstances Oda would have responded in turn with her own jabs, instead her voice cracked as she spoke, “I didn’t know what else to do! You and everyone else just collapsed right in front of me, and the only thing that came to mind was the Vault! Y’shtola, I-”

As soon as she realized her mistake, she strode over and pulled the woman into a tight hug, “I’m sorry. That was rather cruel of me to say when you’re clearly upset.” How could she be so callous as to not consider Oda’s lingering trauma from the ordeals in Ishgard?

But, she still had to answer her question, didn’t she?

Her cheek was so warm in her palm as she caressed her face, foreheads resting together, using her thumb to wipe away any freshly shed tears. No, this wouldn’t do for a reunion three years coming. Their lips met softly, sweetly in a gentle kiss. And then another, and another, the both of them spurred on by the other.

She was almost embarrassed by how quickly she was losing her composure, but after three long summers of being literal worlds apart, she found it increasingly difficult to hold herself back, especially in these moments of reprieve that the two were able to share by themselves. 

Nantes Meeting

Who: @duchess-katarin-lemeur @emery-sutherland, @camille-laubert @armel-lemuer @simeonleguen @gxmer-ami @madeline-lupu @adelaidelibrarymaid @simeonleguen @juno-bouchard @resolutexsarai @cristian-capulet @stargazingalexei @micaiai-lemeur @oliviaxstephan @chloemoigne-ofnantes @ivy-muir When: Wednesday, February 19th Where: House of Nantes Chateau Why: Katarin calls for the House to work out their cause and event for the Aribiter’s challenge. All did not go well.

Kat was grateful to have the support of every member of her House. They may not all be blood related but were all family. “Everyone, thank you for coming to the Chateau this evening. It has been a bit delayed but here we are. You all know the arbiter has put forth a challenge. This is something I cannot do on my own. Though I do have an idea of what our House can do. As champions of knowledge, I propose we look towards the youth of Breton, specifically in the area of STEM education. Your thoughts?”

“A bit dull don’t you think?” Camille sighed.  “Are we planning to raise money so they can build bridges?  Surely there is something more exciting.  At least teach them the value of money and make my job easier in years to come.”

Juno pushed a hand through her hair before pushing up her black framed glasses to rest on her forehead, ones that she always wore to meetings. She knew she had a mountain of work waiting for her, but she was loyal enough to her house to help and attend the dinner. “Youth are the best bet of course” she mused “But maybe raising money for something that others won’t see coming from us, something to make us stand out a little more. I have always loved something with a more practical approach, perhaps skill sets for the real world of work experience. It could bring in the idea of teaching the value of money, as put by Camille” she said with a small gesture to the other. 

"'Practical' is so relative.  Our House is literally focused on technology; it would seem weird if our charity focus was outside of that."  Ami furrowed their brow, not quite sure what the goal was.  "But if we wanted something creative or out of the box, maybe we can look into tinkering with VR and creating a system that can help patients with therapy, physical and mental."  Running a hand through their hair, they also offered, "And of course if we need to raise funds or any sort of promotion, I'm happy to do a charity stream on my channel to boost the cause."

Morgan raised her hand, interjecting briefly.  “I work with a lot of youth and I think a STEM education program would be fantastic.  Inner cities lack a lot of funds and so a lot of children who wish to learn these things are unable to because of a severe lack of opportunity.  Perhaps it’s not a creative approach, but I do believe it would be a very meaningful and impactful one.”

“Practical can come with technology, they can be paired?” Juno offered “Perhaps skills and experience with technology, there could be something there.” she then gave a purse of her lips, she was no tech wizard herself, but there was an ever growing use for it and it was true that Nantes was indeed focused on it. “But I do enjoy the idea of the VR, if it’s workable” she added, taking a sip of her drink and looking away thoughtfully, her gaze only coming back when Morgan spoke up. 

“I think we need to narrow our focus a bit. There are many good ideas, the VR being one. That is something that we can do outside of this challenge. We have the resources for it.” Kat surveyed the room. “Let me be a bit clearer. We are going to focus on the youth of Breton for this challenge and I want it focused on STEM education. Now, what form that takes is what we are discussing. Though, Morgan, I do agree that we work with disadvantaged children. Providing opportunities is something that the entire family can do.”

Camille could see how this was going and it was clear most of it was going to be out with her skill set.  Managing the money was where she would shine but that didn’t stop her voicing her opinions.  “Giving disadvantaged children and their families an exciting opportunity is all well and good but it has to be something that actually achieves something.  No point letting them build a roller coaster and ride it then sending them home with nothing but memories.  At least building bridges would stop them getting their feet wet and teach them some life skills.”

Cristian jotted down each of the comments into the meeting's notes for the evening, knowing Her Grace would want to review everything after no doubt. He couldn't help his irritation though, even not as a blood member of the house. 'All of these ideas regarding youth are excellent, but Camille I think it goes without further stating if you're only going to bring negativity to the table, you're more than welcome to leave. Nobody is forcing you to be here and we need to be working together positively contributing ideas in order to further Her Grace’s as well as the house’s positive image in the community."

Sarai cleared her throat; she agreed with Cristian’s comment, but preferred discussions that were a little calmer. Or not to be involved in the discussion; she’d have been just as happy at home, but the support was necessary. “I believe the experience of a STEM project is, in itself, a valuable one for the children. Particularly those from a disadvantaged background. We want to see more young people involved in those areas, and they’ll need a place to get started. Perhaps the library could be utilised in the research aspect?”

Micaiai was considering all of the options, his brow pulling together, “We could always bring some resources from the family together and start something that would be reoccuring rather than a one off. Take it beyond the challenge and make it something of our own. That way it is not only an important task for the children but also something that could eventually help us train future workforces. That is vitally important.”

Armel had been quiet for most of the dinner; he wasn’t much for making plans and preferred to just open up his checkbook and make things happen. But after rolling his eyes for the hundredth time, he felt he couldn’t be silent any longer. “Must everything be all about the children?” he asked, surveying the room. “You,” he began, lazily gesturing to Sarai. “You’ve got a good point about the library - I feel like we should look into extending a wing or opening one of our own for the public, with resources for all ages. Perhaps we could offer certification courses for adults. We could make it a non-profit institution and even petition the other families to make donations in the future. When Katarin is elected Queen, they’ll be clamoring for her support anyway.”

Emery sat quietly, listening to everyone discuss their various opinions. Unable to voice anything solid as this seemed to be outside of her expertise. Working with children, that was something that she could support. She had dedicated her life to helping children, but she could only sit patiently and see if something would inevitably come up in which she could actually assist. It was difficult to voice an opinion surrounded by people she hardly knew, or didn’t really know at all, and wanted to make sure that when she gave her input, it was something of value.

"I'm worried that if we open an extended wing or something in a building and we plaster our name on it, it might gives us a bad look; it might come across as us trying to do good by simply throwing money around."  Morgan grew a little frustrated with the discussion and wanted to focus the conversation back into helping those at a disadvantage.  As someone who grew up with next to nothing, it was important to her to give back and help as much as she could.  "I do like the idea of possibly offering certification courses, but I'm more in line with supporting an outreach program that gives children a chance to gain a STEM education."

Until now Chloe had watched everything silently. She wasn’t the type to interject often, but for the sake of Kat she would speak up at least once or twice during the meeting. “I have to say, a STEM program in school would have meant the world to me when I was younger. I needed that place to express myself and didn’t really have it. I can’t even count the amount of times I shoved into lockers because I would rather be reading a book or working on my laptop. Shedding a positive light on that could really help teens and younger kids.”

Adelaide finally spoke up. All of the opinions had been moving so quickly before, but if she didn’t speak up at all, she knew she would regret it. “Would it be impossible to combine them? There are several branches to the Public Library throughout the city, including in the more disadvantaged areas. If we provide the funds for them to expand, we could include as a condition that one area of that expansion in each is a place for students to run STEM experiments and a staff member to provide support and education. That way we don’t have to start the outreach from scratch and it would have more longevity than a standalone program.”

Camille folded her arms at Cristian’s comments and muttered to herself under her breath.  Glaring at the man for a moment she turned her attention back to the discussion, cheering up considerably as others were going along the same line of thought.  “Exactly,” she said to Adelaide, shooting a smug expression across to Cristian.  “It needs to have a clear purpose and last, not just an overnight one off event.”

Ivy raised her hand timidly, rather overwhelmed at even being at such a big house event.  “If we can target young teens, say from around eleven to fourteen then that’s the point people are beginning to make their first decisions.  Show them the benefits of STEM education and as Chloe has already said, let them know that there are all these paths out there.  If they don’t get the chance to experience and find out about things when they are young they might miss out on the chances when they get older.”

“Sounds like putting these ideas together might be the best approach.  It lets us focus on the strengths of the ideas we want,” Ami commented as they ripped off a sheet of paper from a notepad.  “But seriously, if video games are involved, count me in.  Kids love video games and video games can totally be educational.”  They let someone else take over the conversation while they crumpled up the paper from earlier, and when the Duchess wasn’t looking, threw it at Camille.  Stifling a small chuckle, they mouthed, “Stop pouting,” before paying attention to whoever was speaking next.

Madeline had been slightly late to the dinner due to an emergency, but by listening to the others, she had a decent idea as to what was going on. She always could get behind an idea that focused on the children, but the bickering over how exactly to implement it was bothering her. “If I may, why are we the ones deciding what is best for the children? This is our event, but it is clear that we all wish for them to be the ones to benefit as well as the community at large. I think that we should allow them to tell us what they want within reason. Perhaps involve the librarians, teachers, and members of the community. We might be surprised as to what they come up with. Besides if we hold a symposium of sorts for the community that we wish to help, it will foster a sense of comradery and excitement about the prospects.” She cleared her throat, looking around at the others. “Or not. It’s just an idea.” 

Juno had taken to simply allowing the others to speak. The blonde was distracted and it was likely obvious she knew she'd likely be questioned on it at a later date, her gaze scanned the room as others began to speak "I'm always willing to go with a majority in regards to the STEM, I believe this whole task is to show our House's problem solving above everything. So we may have to agree to disagree in many respects. I'm just happy to help in whatever way I can really" She murmured, perking when she heard an idea. "An open forum" she nodded as Madeline spoke, agreeing with the idea, her finger drawing around the rim of her glass as she thought. 

Olivia didn’t usually feel comfortable speaking up at things like this since she didn’t grow up in Breton, but since children were involved, she felt rather inclined, “As someone who does have a child...I actually do agree with Madeline as well. I think it could be a good idea to involve the ones we’re aiming to help. Children like being involved, and in turn the parents of those children do want what’s best for them. Maybe we can narrow it down to a few final choices that we can all agree on and then let the community decide on the final decision. I think they would like that we took their opinions into consideration since, like Madeline said, just because we might think something is useful, doesn’t necessarily make it true.”

Kat listened to the back and forth calmly, pleased with the ideas but not entirely pleased with the behavior. They were supposed to be working together.  She cleared her throat and spoke again. “First, cousin,” she said, directing her gaze to Armel. “In this case, yes, this is all about the children. It may be cliche but they are the future of Breton and Nantes can make its greatest impact through them.” She paused, tapping her nails on the wooden table. “This is what I am hearing. There is a concern that this will be a one off event. This was never my intention. I want something lasting and sustainable. I agree with Morgan that we must consider those children that are at risk or at a disadvantage due to their station. As far as having community input, I agree. Though I would propose we start with the schools before going right to the population at large. They are the most informed on what our children need. So, how can we best support making sure STEM education is accessible to every child in Breton. I propose starting with the schools in Vannes. We ask our educators what they need. At the elementary level, maybe we start a mentorship/sponsorship program providing schools what they need. For older students, a scholarship program...as for the libraries, certainly they have the capability to be utilized in some form.  Beyond what program we establish, we need to also plan an event to kick it off. Something that will raise funds and get our community involved.  Ideas for that? And please remember we are working together, not against each other.”

Ami straightened up, having heard the tone carried out by the Duchess.  Clearly they needed to take this more seriously, and they did really want to help out.  "Again, not to be a broken record, but I really am happy to host a charity stream if we want to raise some funds.  A lot of people will do 24-hour streams and I can ask some of my friends to help out and any of you all are also welcome to hop on," they explained.  "I'm not too familiar with the school program here but I think a mentorship program is a super dope idea."

“One possibility for an event would be a charity auction? And the items could be lesson plans or supplies for different aspects of the STEM program. That way it would raise money, and it would be another way for the community to be involved in voting on what material they most want covered for the future of Vannes.” Adelaide proposed quietly. “But we can design the different items based on the feedback we get from schools, teachers, and parents so it would still put their voices first.” She had a few other ideas, but she rarely thought in terms of single events and it sounded like that was the option that needed to be nailed down first for the good of the family. 

Juno couldn’t help but feel slightly satisfied at the point Kat made, about everyone needing to work together. She felt it had added onto her point about how the task had clearly been to test their ability on working together as a house. The Lawyer couldn’t help but sit a little smugly until she cleared her throat and took a drink of her water. The lawyer looked back to Kat, silent as she allowed others to speak, but more concerned for what she imagined was a fraying string of patience in the others mind from the bickering around them. The blonde nodded slowly as Adelaide spoke, at least making it look like she was taking in the point- a good one at that. 

Simeon hadn’t meant to be late. He had gotten held up at work and then from there it had been awful getting there. Traffic and just general unluckiness. As he crept into the room, he gave an apologetic look to the blonde at the head of the table. “I’m sorry for being late, Kat--Uh… Katarin. Duchess.” Calling her anything but Kat was always weird to Simeon, but he didn’t want to disrespect her in front of the rest of the family. Moving to sit down beside Chloe, he swallowed hard before glancing at the younger woman. “Can you fill me in?” he asked quietly.

Armel rolled his eyes at the latecomer. “We’re doing a STEM program for the children.” He tried his best not to sound quite so dismissive of the idea, but well - he was skeptical. “It seems you all have this figured out without any additional input from me. Why don’t I leave everyone to it and Camille can inform me how many zeroes to put on the check. I’ve got a business to look after.”

Up until that point, Alexei had remained utterly quiet, sitting in the back corner and not sure that his input would have mattered all that much anyway. But when Armel spoke with such disinterest, he found himself letting out a sound of displeasure. “Sure, Armel-- Run off when it actually matters.” He found himself saying, though it was said lowly and could be easily missed.

Armel turned toward the direction of the voice, his brow raised. It was hard to hear what was said, but something said so soft could never be good. “Did you have something you care to say to me?” he asked the submissive, calmly folding his hands across his lap. “Please, do go on.”

Simeon swallowed hard, looking between Alexei and Armel. He didn’t… want people to fight. Not just because he didn’t do well in tense situations but also because they were literally supposed to be family. Maybe not by blood, but all united under one house. “Is there something wrong with helping children?” He piped up, feeling his heart thump a little like it did whenever he spoke in large groups. But he was hoping that Armel would just answer him and maybe not fight with Alexei.

Cristian gestured for Simeon to relax, turning to face Armel as he calmly spoke up. "The same offer goes for you, Sir. Everyone's contributing ideas right now and working together. If you insist on making everyone uncomfortable and not being willing to be an adult about this, you're welcome to see yourself out instead of wasting Her Grace's time.”

Alexei did his best to not make a scene, knowing full well the last thing he needed to happen was for a fight to break out. He was good at that-- but he was genuinely trying. He looked to Simeon and then to Cristian, glad that they seemed to be putting what he had been feeling in much more eloquent terms than he ever could. “I’m sure he’s got better things to do than be here.” Alexei said, knowing full well the dominant had heard what he’d said before. “We don’t want to bore the poor man with productive ideas.”

Cristian raised an eyebrow, turning to face Alexei, calmly adding, "I think enough has been said on this-- can we please refocus? Everyone?"

Kat, having watched the display, was far more angry than before. Standing, she looked towards the lot of them. “That is enough,” she declared, glaring at the room with an icy gaze. “This is meant to bring our house and Breton together. And while I am most appreciative of any support that gets me to the throne, I’m beyond disgusted that there seems to be no ability in this room to pull together.” Her gaze traveled over the assorted members of her family until it landed on her cousin. “Armel, if you do not wish to be here, leave. Your negativity regarding the direction I have determined that we will go is not appreciated nor needed. While your support is and will always be appreciated, it is clear you are far more interested in your business.” Having made that point, she looked around to the others. “If anyone else wishes to leave now, I suggest you do so before my patience wears thinner.”

The sudden voice of Kat ringing through the air had Alexei freezing slightly. He had planned to fall silent after what Cristian had said, but couldn’t help the glare he found himself shooting Armel. Alexei didn’t exactly have the patience for dominants like him, no matter how much he tried to hold his tongue. He looked to the duchess before his arms were crossing over his chest and he fell back into the silence he had been in. Back to the patient observer only.

Armel stood up from his chair, happy to be excused despite how furious his cousin was. She could be dealt with later - for now, he wanted out of this charade. “I’ll speak with you soon, cousin,” he said curtly. His eyes traveled across to Alexei and narrowed a bit; the submissive was on his radar now. He’d handle the disrespect later. “Do let me know how much will be  needed.” With a final glower across the room, the dominant exited, glad to be on his way to the real business.

Simeon did not like hearing Kat get angry. He winced a little before his eyes dropped to the floor and he reached idly for the fork on the table just for something to fidget with. He sorely wished that he could speak up again, not that she needed him to come to her defense or to run her meeting--and he wouldn’t be able to anyway. Instead, he just went quiet and did his best not to call attention to himself. Tension was, in a word, the worst. And tension in Kat was something Simeon didn’t want to see at all. A frown settled on his face and he just shook his head to himself.

As Armel stormed off, leaving the meeting, Morgan was pretty glad to see him leave.  While she didn't agree with everyone butting heads, especially when it resulted in the Duchess scolding everyone, it'll probably be easier to be productive now.  "Okay, so regrouping.  Our focus will be some sort of STEM-related educational outreach?  And we also need a way to raise some money, right?" she asked, trying to break the momentary tension and to bring everyone back on track.

Micaiai trusted his sister to take care of the situation and instead remained as quiet support for her as she put the rest of the family in their place. He placed a hand on his sister’s arm after a moment, and gave her a small smile of support. “We will need to raise some money. I’m sure we can come up with a great campaign.” Straight back to business. 

After filling Simeon in on what had happened thus far in the meeting, Chloe decided to sit back and simply observe. For a house that was supposed to be working together to get Kat chosen as queen, they were definitely struggling. “Armel could have been on to something. If we can get this program for the kids up and running, what do you think about having an offshoot in the future of teaching adults that have been disadvantaged skills like making a resume and working on a computer? That would be a good long term goal, and could go along with what he said about helping other ages too. Obviously it wouldn’t be a focus right now, but it would be something we can work towards.”

Camille was still annoyed after the way Cristian spoke to her and then, as far as she was concerned he was still trying to call the shots despite what the duchess had said to everyone.  Watching Armel leave she barely heard what was heard next, her annoyance reaching boiling point.  Pushing back her chair she stood up suddenly. Looking at Katarin Camille’s anger was evident in her voice,“This was supposed to be a meeting for Nantes to share ideas but since your new assistant seems to think he is the only voice that matters I will go and get on with far better things.  It is clear he thinks he has all the answers anyway.”  Looking right at the man she smirked, “Since my views and expertise are irrelevant in your eyes good luck with getting the charity status sorted on the accounts and the tax relief, I’m sure it will be easy peasy for someone of your calibre.”  With that she stormed out, slamming the door behind her.

Adelaide was shocked at all of the behavior she was seeing, although she couldn’t help being a little awed by Kat. The Romanos never would have allowed such disrespect or lack of cohesion towards their Head of Houses at any time, let alone when something was so important. But she gathered her courage again, trying to help refocus the discussion back to the point so she wouldn’t have to sit through too many of these contentious gatherings. “If the charity auction idea doesn’t work, perhaps we could do something like a fair? Bring in different professionals in the STEM field to give lectures and demonstrations over the course of a day or a weekend, and people could buy tickets for individual speakers or the whole event. In between we could also have a lot of fun hands on activities for kids to get them excited about the possibility of more classes like this. That way we can keep the event tied to the charity itself.”

Micaiai stepped in then, his eyes looking far more angry than he usually looked. He eyed down the rest of his family, “If anyone else has an issue I would politely ask that they leave now and discuss it privately and respectfully with your Duchess.” He swallowed, fingers tapping down on the table. “Is that clear?”

Cristian bit his tongue, both embarrassed and appalled by Camille's response and childish exit, not understanding how in the world his request for peace and cooperation somehow came off as his voice being the only one that mattered or that he even had all the answers. He'd made a point to not make any suggestions, despite several coming to mind, since it wasn't his family and felt out of line. He merely had wanted everyone to feel encouraged to contribute and to keep a positive atmosphere, but apparently even that had backfired. He made a note to apologize to the Duchess after, once the family had dispersed. Versus chiming in at all, he kept his mouth shut and eyes on his computer the remainder of the meeting, lips curled into an embarrassed frown as he waited for the meeting to conclude. 

Madeline rubbed the bridge of her nose, feeling a headache coming on. She was in awe of the Duchess for remaining so poised in the situation. She’d be having words with Alexei about what happened later, but that was hardly the issue at hand. “Just to clarify seeing as things got a bit… off topic. We are going to invest in an on-going STEM education project for the youth. It will start in Vannes and then move to the rest of Breton as a whole. In order to do this, we are going to enlist the help of the educators to find out what they need. The funds are going to be raised from an auction that Ami will stream in order to get to a wider audience.” She hoped that there would be peace for the rest of the meeting. “Does that sound about right to everyone?” 

Kat was grateful to Madeline for summing up the majority of what had previously been said. “Yes, that is the gist. Though instead of an auction, I believe I prefer Adelaide’s idea for a fair. I think it involves more of the community and gives us a better opportunity to interact with the community at large.”  She was beyond tired of trying to maintain the peace in her house and wanted to wrap this up. “Thank you for those that kept their heads and contributed well-thought out ideas. Your support is appreciated more than I can say. In the coming days I will meet with key people individually. I think there is more than enough work to be done that all will have a role.” Kat, looked around the room, managing a smile to those still at the table. “Do not let this evening weigh on your minds. We are a strong house with strong personalities. However, any future meetings of this nature will not be a repeat of this evening. Thank you all for attending. If you will excuse me, there are obviously things I must attend to.”

Trigger warning: alcohol, death mention, drugs.

That same night she almost didn't get any sleep, Lewis insisted on leaving her in his apartment and coming back in the early morning while Clarissa refused and wanted Snowflake to rest in her room for tonight, she could sleep that night on the couch, preferred for her to be under surveillance before leaving her alone. Before letting the young girl into her own room, the environment erupted into an argument caused by Clarissa that followed for a few more hours.

"Tell me, how old are you really?" She had drunk enough to start standing in a more relaxed manner but her face wouldn't let go of the recent worry.

"I told you she's 21!" Lewis was in much the same condition, with a beer bottle in his hand and a smell of sweat that was unbearable, sitting next to the wooden table close to the wall.

"Stop. Lying. Asshole!"

"I'm 16 years old... is that what you want to know? Well yes, I'm not 21, I'm 16, do you have anything against me for not being the age you expected?" An unbroken silence fell over them for a few seconds only, but it still seemed like the minutes have been enlarged. Clarissa approached the girl as she struggled to maintain her balance, her eyes were bright and narrow, placed a hand on her shoulder but she had to remove it since the girl's skin was so cold.

"No... there's nothing against that... just that you're in a lot of trouble... A lot of trouble, believe me... you have to take care of yourself." Those were obvious words but they were meaningful, couldn't take it lightly if she wanted to survive and win another day, and those were words packed with experience. It did her good to hear what others more familiar with the subject might have to say.

"Well, you can't exactly s-solve it, obviously they don't let minors fight like that, it's already been done and it's extremely dangerous." Lewis paused, actually, he had to burp to be able to continue talking. "Clarissa, do you remember?" The sister laid her pale eyes on her brother's face, tilted her head to the right and a sound of broken glass burst in the room. Her strength was slightly dulled by the alcohol in her blood, throwing the bottle that had been in her hand without much effort, Lewis threw himself to the floor before the bottle hit his face, laughing at the reaction... the young woman in the room didn't understand what was happening exactly, running to the safety of the room and closing the door behind her.

It would have been better not to know what happened before, but one could have noticed the tension that night before the fight because of Clarissa's presence there among the spectators. Lewis told Snowflake the next days that in reality his sister was technically not allowed to be there, the last time she fought in the cage she had such bad luck that her rival was a fifteen-year-old girl, she lived in the streets since she was a child and that night she wanted to try her luck before dying of hunger. The show was short-lived, as it is very unlikely that a non-professional who is not well nourished can beat someone who is far more experienced. But that was not all, because Clarissa could not kill her properly, although she had broken her spine and suffocated her for several minutes, the girl did not perish, it seemed impossible that at that point she refused to die but her body resisted even in its weakest moment. It was a scandal, many thought that she did it on purpose to create a reputation that would give others a reason to be afraid of her, but she did not. It was never under her own control and refused to continue fighting.

She could not sleep that night, not only because of the argument the siblings were having in the other room but for the fear of closing her eyes and not knowing what she would find once she begins to dream. In the darkness of the night, as it gradually invaded her head, the moonlight transported her to an unknown place, the only light coming from the starry sky above her head, and filtering through dry branches like spiders weaving threads of darkness. She was unsure if she's walking or flying, she's moving forward, is she? Her destination was an unreal scenario as well as it was horrific, she wanted to scream but something was squeezing her neck, her own hands around her neck.

A naked body was raised about 4 meters above the ground but it was pierced by several icy formations as giant needles from the ground, two in the legs, one in the stomach, another in the chest, and one in the head, was the thinnest but seemed the most lethal. The girl could hear the blood dripping and staining the stone floor, her arms were immobile and noticed they were missing, only exposed bones and muscles in shreds where her hands should be. She came a little closer, could not see who was this woman suffering this horrible death, but it was freezing her blood to listen to her suffer, her jaw was quivering and tried to breathe through her mouth. Could see her but she couldn't do anything to save her, and there was nothing left to do, however, it wouldn't be the last time they would encounter in her dreams.

The image appeared again for 15 days, they were not consecutive but she remained in the same place, elevated while gazing at the sky, sometimes the young girl saw the female figure shivering and a couple of times she heard her scream, one time she thought she was shedding tears, that's when she realized she was crying while screaming for mercy. Her sobbing was heartbreaking and her tears created a pond big enough to reach Snowflake... Eirwen, there was no need to use stupid nicknames here. The water fused with the blood reached for her toes and thought to see more gigantic needles of ice piercing the body. When she had fully recovered from her broken bones, that image disappeared from her head, felt relieved when no longer saw the image in the middle of the night, and when it finally left her she could breathe better than before, with less ache in her body.

The night of her return was as glorious as the first, no, better than the first, the strangers who did not know her at first seemed to be enchanted by the brutality of the young woman, from the outside it was the most spectacular carnage. Inside, she sensed that with each blow some unknown part of herself was leaving, the punches were incessant, that night she heard thunderous drums beating against her skull every time she hit the other rival, the fury took over her senses and she was not even a spectator of what was happening, she was confined to be a puppet of the emotions that scorched inside her chest. The sound of the drums dissolved into echoes in the midst of a dark room in the middle of the night, her skin trembled under her clothes as she watched the door close, the door opening soon after, her bones paralyzed. It was fear, it grew inside her, it rotted her insides and now it was she who paralyzed those who stared at her.

Then there was calm but did not last long as it came with headaches and physical pain of spending so much energy in a night of fighting. She had succeeded, she had earned money and taken the chance to live another day, would have to be satisfied with her achievement tonight, it was not like that. Cleaning the body after the fight was becoming a silent ritual that only she could understand, she saw the dry red spots become liquid once again as the shower water came down over her head, gently cleansing her skin. It was a relief that they had showers in that building, how the hell did it hold up after all? Is still confused about this illegal world that many people know about but none of them seemed better than her, one could say that judging by their looks and way of talking they were as ruined as she was.

"We should celebrate your return and victory, don't you think?" Clarissa could only think of relaxing after a long night like that, there were places that, even though they didn't look good, offered loud music, drinks and more things that the girl still couldn't access to right now due to her age.

"Well, there's a first time for everything, isn't there?" It was enough to know that if she wanted to continue with the night, they'd have to go back to the siblings' apartment and borrow some clothes. She wasn't sure if a tight dress would fit her at all or if it was appropriate for her age, she preferred not to wear heels, but shoes that could be considered 'nice' and comfortable, as well as braiding her hair and forming a bun. Well... didn't know if she looked that bad in front of Clarissa's mirror, or that uncomfortable.

"By the way, be careful with what you drink." It is what Clarissa mentioned before forcing the girl to sit down on the mattress and applying a light foundation on the pale skin, it seemed to create an illusion, adding years to her features. Dark lipstick and eye shadow to match with the rest of her look. Needed to remember that advice once or twice through their trip in Lewis' car.

**

There are certain rules to follow when you want to enjoy the rest of the night until you are fed up. She has never had the opportunity to visit a place to have fun with the simple objective of forgetting anything that happened during the day. The fists still echoed with the pain of the hits, but with the passing of the night, they would alleviate very soon. That and a few drinks in between.

"Don't drink too much, you have money but we don't want you to spend it on drinking and then get lost in the crowd." Even though Lewis had said no, he finally agreed to give her something to drink, could she bear it? Sure, it was illegal, what wasn't illegal at this point? They lived under no rules and who would dare to forbid them, although with the makeup on her face she gave the impression to be a young adult and not a teenager. The first rule, she couldn't be apart from them much.

"Watch the glass, keep it with you at all time." It was the second time Clarissa insisted on watching what she was taking. What kind of paranoia was that? Could something wrong happen to her? She did not ask questions of any kind, for she preferred to sip on a sweet daiquiri, at first she found it awful, then it was softer and more bearable for her throat, felt as if her neck would catch fire if she drank again, but she was soothed after the fourth sip.

It was a good idea to come with comfortable shoes, the figures around her after a few minutes -or hours?- began to dissipate in the atmosphere, the lights were too dimmed and the crowd occupied almost the entire compound, it seemed that many people came to this place but could not imagine where they came from exactly. Hours -or minutes?- passed and not even Clarissa or Lewis would dance with her, they were sitting in a remote area under a red light, there were seats around a glass table with half-empty glasses and cigarettes still lit placed on it. She didn’t want to let them out of her sight, although her glass was with them now, hers was completely empty without any liquid. Looked closely at the faces of strangers who were coming into her field of vision, people who were disappearing into the darkness and the lights, attempted to imitate the movements of the others, was she really enjoying it? What exactly was she doing here?

It came to a point in which she couldn’t see the two siblings, in fact, she could no longer see the entrance or the part of the bar, only listened to the noisy music coming from the speakers, the bodies around her led her to an area where she seemed to be in the center of a black hole, around her everyone was dancing to a disappearing rhythm. One of her arms ached slightly, she gradually lost feeling in one of them, right or left? What's more, her body was asking to be able to sleep and rest, the young girl was exhausted... She pulled both hands to her face and grunted against her palms, nobody seemed to notice her behavior or how she is feeling, her own feet moved in an unknown direction, north or south? Needed to get out of there, somewhere, anywhere.

Eirwen never collapsed against the ground, no matter how much she thought about being inside of a dream or a nightmare.

for Neil's bday prompt, maybe Andrew doing small soft things for Neil throughout his special day, knowing that Neil doesn't particularly care for his bday that much but still wanting to make him feel good. idk does that make sense?

Okay, so here we go, for Neil’s ‘non-birthday’ (I should say ‘Nathaniel’s birthday’? Since January 19th is Nathaniel’s birthday and March 31st is Neil’s official birthday now). A day late but still, something for the occasion. Thank you for the prompt, I think it fits the occasion rather well, all in all!

Very vague references to what happens on January 19th in the books and very vague mature times between the boys but nothing graphic or things like that.

*******

Neil was on edge as the weekend approached, which hesupposed most of the Foxes put down to him being stressed about them reachingthe play-offs and having a home game against the Ohio State Buckeyes. Which wasin part true – the Foxes needed to win, to get their two out of three games andmaintain a good point average while preparing the freshmen for playing with themore advanced teams of the championship season, but Ohio State didn’t present that much of a challenge.

Even with ‘Jack the Asshole’ and his partner, Sheena, makingrandom ‘Nathanial’ and ‘Wesninski’ comments, no one thought anything of Fridaynight other than of kicking Buckeye ass (which really, Neil couldn’t figure outthat team name or their hideous mascot)… well, other than the couple of timeswhen Neil caught Andrew or Wymack giving him intent looks while in the lockerroom.

They didn’t say anything, though, which was fine with him sincehe didn’t want to think about what had happened around that time last year,about the significance of that weekend.

The Foxes won by six points even with Jack trying to hog thedamn ball while out on the court with Neil (earning an earful from Dan, Wymack and Kevin after the game), and once thepost-games interviews and review were done, the Monsters piled into theMaserati and headed off to Columbia.

Neil felt some of his anxiety fade away as they left PSUbehind, as he sat next to Andrew in the car with the scent of cigarette smokefilling his senses each time he inhaled, the sound of Nicky and Aaronsquabbling over what soundtrack to play while Kevin called them out on their ‘poortaste’. He smiled when Andrew, quiet as ever, held out his right hand with thepalm upward once they were on the highway and was quick to entwine theirfingers together.

It was a usual Friday night, was their stop at Sweetie’s forfood and ice cream then off to Eden’s where Neil only had one shot to celebratetheir win then allowed himself to be distracted by arguing with an increasinglydrunk Kevin over the possible line-up for the rest of the championship season.For a while Neil could forget everything when he had Andrew by his side and hisfriends around him, when he felt as if he belonged among them.

When they got back to the house in Columbia with him andAndrew the only two sober ones out of the group, and once Kevin and Aaron andNicky were in their respective beds, Andrew led him up to the bedroom theyshared and asked him ‘yes or no’ then stripped him of his clothes after he replied‘yes’. Neil forgot about everything but how goodAndrew always made him feel, the feel of skin against skin as they movedtogether, as hands stroked and nails gently scratched then soothed, as mouthskissed and sucked, teeth nipped and teased and bit.

He fell asleep to the feel of Andrew’s fingers trailingalong his right arm, his lover’s body heat soaking into his back as Andrew laya scant inch away, the scent of soap from their recent shower mingling with thefaint hint of cigarette smoke which lingered on the pillow beneath his head. Exhaustedand sated, Neil somehow managed to sleep through the night without any baddreams.

When he woke up the next day, the house quiet and a sliverof light from the rising sun peeked through the mostly drawn curtains, he layin bed for a minute or two before the overwhelming urge to move had him sliding from beneath the warm blankets so he could goabout his morning run. Andrew made a low, disgruntled noise of complaint as hepulled the blankets almost all the way over his head and rolled over to face thewall while Neil dressed warm enough for the ‘cold’ (for South Carolina) weatherthen left the room as quietly as he could before heading for the kitchen doorwithout waking any of the others.

He ran for almost two hours, until the awful urge to flee, to find the nearest bus stop ortrain station, to heed his mother’s dying wishes finally faded away and hecould return to the house without any trepidation. Until the memories of bloodon walls, of cruel smiles and bright knives had been pushed away (for the timebeing), until he could convince himself that it was just another day, that itdidn’t have any special meaning to him.

It didn’t have anyspecial meaning, not to Neil Josten.

As soon as he used his key (the key Andrew had given him) toenter the house, he smelled fresh coffee brewing, which was a surprise sincenone of the others would wake up after a night at Eden’s until almost noon, ifthey could help it. Neil usually made coffee when he returned from a run so itwould be ready when he stepped out of his shower, yet there it was, the lastfew drops falling into a full pot. He blinked in confusion before he grabbed a mugso he could enjoy some to drink as soon as he stepped out of the shower.

There was no sign of anyone else being up as he went to the bathroom– all the bedroom doors were closed, and it was dark in the den with Kevin’sloud snores filling the first floor (even echoing up into the second level asNeil climbed the steps).

The next surprise awaited Neil as he entered the bathroom;there were fresh towels set out on the bathroom sink, still warm and fluffedfrom the dryer as if they’d been set out mere moments before he’d returned tothe house, along with a change of clothes. Savoring the feel of the linens, hewas quick to shed his sweat-soaked clothes and reached into the shower to startthe water, only to find that someone must have run it when they brought thetowels and clothes in so it would be hot right away when he stepped into shower.

Touched by the show of thoughtfulness, he quickly enteredthe bath/shower and pulled the curtain shut so he could wash off, grateful forthe hot water which rained down on his skin after all the time out in the cold.Once he was clean, he smiled at the still warm towels, and noticed that the sweatshirtwas an old one of Andrew’s which he loved to borrow since it was so soft fromage.

Neil took his time getting ready that morning, his spirits buoyedby the kind actions shown toward him, and made sure to grab his dirty clothesand the damp towels to take to the laundry room before he went back to thefirst floor.

When he opened the fridge to make something for breakfast, hemerely shook his head at the sight of the pints of fresh strawberries andblueberries on the top shelf, along with a few other items which he knew hadn’tbeen there the night before. Smiling in anticipation of a delicious breakfast,he pulled out the fruit and set the pints on the counter, then began makingsome oatmeal.

He’d just finished a big bowl of cooked oats with lots offruit and a little honey (with plenty left over for Kevin when his friendfinally woke up) when a sleepy Aaron stumbled into the kitchen. They exchangednods in greeting and Neil got up to put some bacon in the oven for his friends’breakfast while Aaron availed himself on the coffee as if it was the mostimportant thing in the world.

The bacon was almost ready and Neil was preparing the store-boughtbiscuits on a tray to start baking while Aaron brewed a fresh pot of coffeewhen Andrew showed up next. Neil gave him a smile by way of ‘good morning’ andwasn’t upset when his boyfriend nearly nodded once before heading outside(after grabbing a coat) to have a cigarette, and made sure to have a cup ofcoffee (plus enough sugar and milk) waiting for when Andrew came back inside.

He was tugged down for a quick kiss in exchange for thecoffee then Andrew got to work making chocolate-chip pancakes to go along withthe biscuits and bacon, which made Nicky’s morning when he staggered inpleading for coffee about twenty minutes later. The four of them were seated atthe table, everyone but Neil eating, when Kevin finally woke up (more or less),and was happy to finish off the oatmeal once he had a couple of cups of coffee.

Neil found himself smiling as Aaron and Nicky fought over ifit was better to put honey or butter on biscuits, as Kevin yelled at them foreating so many ‘useless carbs’ (while Andrew sat there quietly and determinedlyshoving pancake after pancake into his mouth), as Nicky informed Kevin that aperfect set of abs could only offset his terrible personality so much…

It was exactly what he needed right then, was his friendscarrying on like always, was it being just like any other Saturday. Nickyoffered to wash the dishes since Neil and Andrew had cooked breakfast, andsomehow guilt-tripped Aaron and Kevin into helping to clean up, and goteveryone (almost everyone) involved in a debate over what they would do for therest of the day.

Kevin, of course, wanted to watch Exy games, but even Neildisagreed with him on that. They eventually decided to watch movies, whichmeant that Andrew and Neil drove off to the video store to rent a bunch of movieswhich Andrew picked out; Neil didn’t mind since he still had a lot of catchingup to do when it came to movies, and it was nice to spend a little time alonewith his boyfriend.

He almost asked about the groceries and the towels andeverything, but Andrew didn’t say anything so he decided to remain quiet andnot ruin things.

Andrew had picked several of the 007 movies, which even Neilknew a little about but had never seen more than a few minutes of here andthere. Nicky groaned and even Aaron appeared put out by the choice, but oncesome beers were grabbed and popcorn was made, all of them settled in the livingroom, Neil next to Andrew on the loveseat, and their movie marathon started.

At first the five of them were quiet while they watched,then Nicky made a smart remark, followed by Aaron, and even Kevin joined in. Neilstarted mocking the accents, Nicky mock-gagging over some of the women andtheir improbable names, Andrew even scoffed at some of the fight scenes, andsoon they were tearing apart the movies, pausing only to make more drinks andorder take-out for dinner.

Nicky and Kevin stood up near the television to re-enact acouple of the most ridiculous ‘romantic’ scenes until even Aaron was red-facedwith laughter, while Andrew kept a count of how many improbable fight scenesthere were and massive failures on the whole ‘that wouldn’t kill anyone’ topic.

By the time the last movie played for the night, Neil’s facehurt from smiling so much, the scar tissue on his left cheek a bit sore fromstretching so much, and everyone appeared in a great mood. Even Andrew had moreof a contemplative mood about him for once, rather than shuttered or bored.

Once they were in their room, Neil sank down on the bedwhile Andrew began to remove his sweater and jeans for bed. “So… today,” hesaid, finally addressing the topic he’d done his best to ignore all weekend. “Thatwas you, wasn’t it? Did you have it planned out in advance or what?”

Andrew was quiet as he threw his sweater in the hamper thenslowly turned to face Neil and close the space between them until he stoodright in front of him. “I know how you think,” he said as he reached out hishand and, when Neil nodded, wrapped it lightly around the back of Neil’s neck. “Iknew you’d obsess over this day even though it doesn’t have any meaning anymore.”

“I… it’s… it was my birthday,” Neil tried to explain as hisfingers twisted in the soft material of his orange sweatpants.

“It’s Nathaniel’sbirthday,” Andrew said in his deep, calm voice, echoing Neil’s thought fromthat morning. “And I told you to leave Nathaniel behind, remember? Yourbirthday is March 31st, so if this is a lame-ass way to try to getsome extra presents out of me, fuck off, Josten.” Andrew’s hand slid around togently press against Neil’s face until he fell back onto the bed. “Go to sleep,maybe you’ll wake up with a few working braincells. Maybe.”

Neil laughed as he straightened out on the bed then pulledoff his sweatshirt and sweatpants before he crawled beneath the blankets. “Wouldn’tthat be a present for you, hmm?” Helaughed again at his lover’s aggrieved sigh and watched as Andrew threw his clothesin the hamper as well. Once his boyfriend joined him in their bed, he rolledover to face him. “In all seriousness… thankyou. They weren’t presents but everything you did today made me feel betterand kept everyone from remembering about today, so again, thank you.”

“That’s not you falling asleep, junkie,” Andrew said, but hereached out to give Neil’s nape another gentle squeeze before pointedly closinghis eyes.

“Night, Drew.”

“Sleep.” That timethe order was followed up by a light poke to his right cheek.

Neil smiled and closed his eyes.

*******

Still working on Ghost in You ch4 and the reverse big bang fic - life is very MEH right now and insanely busy but there will be fic in the near future.

Victims of War

CW: Non-descriptive blood and gore, and thoughts of dying 

Ship: Mothda

Word count: 2662 total 

Fic under the cut:

The Titan war, a constant battle that had stretched so long that no one can even remember what had started it, and no one cared as long as blood was shed they were satisfied. In this war you could die at any second and not a single soul would remember that you existed. Even those granted with the ability to be reborn could die if they’re egg was destroyed during the process of rebirth. 

This entire conflict made the weak titan Mothra stay in constant hiding, although she could fight she was fragile compared to any other titan. She hated fighting in general but the killing made her livid, she strived to make peace among the others but she’d be squished like a bug if she tried. She had a strong hunger for peace but she was starving.

She had resided in a small seaside cave since the very beginning of the war, so hidden that it was almost impossible to find. Mothra spent all of her time trying to sleep and ignore the part of her that scream to stop the fighting but this part always won. 

This very day was like every other before it, silence everywhere except the woman's mind. 

At least that's what it was supposed to be like…

Mothra could hear someone crawl into the cave, and from how loud they were, this person must have been huge compared to her. She could hear how the claws dug deeply into the ground below. The four armed woman cowared in the deepest part of the cave next to her egg hiding from the intruder. Mothra spent the next couple of minutes in silence waiting for the invader to crawl deeper into the cave and put her out of her misery caused by this world. She wanted her life to end more than anyone else on this planet. 

At least the delicate fairy-like woman had thought that until she started to hear sobbing from the caves entrance, it sounded so weak and fragile, almost like her own. Mothra couldn’t stand it, it made her feel bad for this mystery titan, even if she was killed in the process she had to check on them. 

She tip-toed to the entrance, the cry getting louder and the pain of it getting stronger. As she peered around the corner she spotted a tall tan woman with long turquoise hair and a blue dress laying on the cave’s damp cold ground, a puddle of blood beneath her. 

Other than this womans sobbing a light mumble could be heard “ I don’t want to die like this, I can’t die like this, I refuse…” the woman croaked. She rolled over a bit so now her wounds were now visible to Mothra, deep claw marks dug deep through her abdomen. The winged woman let out a gasp at the sight of what had been done to the woman in blue but thanks to the sudden noise the mystery woman immediately swung all of her attention to the white haired girl. 

Although gravely injured she looked vicious and ready to kill “ who goes there?!” she screamed, her voice still trembling. 

Mothra no longer had fear, if she were to die trying to help the blue woman then so be it, at least she died trying to get out of her fearful state of mind. She took a deep breath and walked closer “Me ma’am, I’m sorry to intrude…” she said in a soft voice as not to make anything worse. 

There was a long silence as the blue haired woman just stared at her before sighing “If you’re going to kill me little lady go ahead I can’t try stopping you, so put me out of my misery”

“Wait no I don’t want to kill you at all-”

“I don’t care, kill me, and parade the fact that you did it for fame I don’t care, I want this to end!” she yelled.

Mothra paused at this, ‘how much did she really want to die? Was this woman suffering just like her? Was she not as alone as she had previously thought?’ she thought before snapping back to her senses. “No I refuse to do such a thing, I don’t want to kill you I want to help you!”

“Why would another pawn of this war help me? I know you want power just like everyone else on this planet, so do it!” 

“ I am no pawn of this sickening war I’m merely a bystander suffering, I refuse to kill you and I’m helping you no matter what you say!” she managed to yell back. 

The blue hair woman’s face appeared to be in shock from the winged womans retaliation but then she settled herself back done “ and how are you supposed to do that?” 

“ I don’t know, but I’m not leaving you till I can find out.” Mothra said walking closer to the blue haired woman, now having a rush of determination to heal her. 

“I doubt you can but,” she looked up to shorter woman as she took her left arm into one of her two sets of hands “...I can’t thank you enough for trying…” 

  Mothra looked deeply into the now calm woman's eyes “ you don’t need to thank you for being decent, you know?” 

The blue haired woman laughed “ I haven’t seen decency in centuries so really I have to” 

She gave a light giggle in return “oh, you poor thing…” the winged woman got up and grab some nearby shrubbage and started wrapping it around the still fresh wounds. “So do you have a name?”

“Why a matter of fact I do, my name is Manda” She said blissfully “ a better question is, do you short stuff?” 

“ It’s Mothra, my names Mothra…” she said shyly almost forgetting her own name after living in silence for the longest time. 

“My what a beautiful name…” Manda smiled sweetly 

“Now I hope you don’t mind me asking but…” Mothra started nervously “but what happened to you?” There was a long tense moment of silence as Manda look down “Oh that was so rude and disrespectful of me I am SO sorry, please forgive me!” she panicked. 

“ Wait no, no,you don’t have to apologize!” she panicked in return “ I was just in such a rush when it happened that I’m just trying to piece together what happened, that’s all”

“Okay take as much time as you need to tell me Manda” she said getting more shrubage to stop the bleeding

There was a long silence as Manda tried remembering what exactly happened but Mothra was okay with waiting for her. The silence broke as the taller woman spoke “Varan, he is the cause.”

“Who?”

“How do you not know him, he’s one of the most dangerous fighters in this war?” Manda questioned “ he’s killed thousands of other titans and has been here since the very start” 

“I’ve been in this cave for almost the entire time so no I don’t know a single soul outside of these walls”

“I guess you're one of the smarter ones for not getting caught up in this mess then…” she sighed. “ Well this...disgusting vial creature discovered where I kept my egg and destroyed it, which is one of the worst possible things you could do…” she looked up as Mothra’s gaze matched up with hers. “ He then came charging after me and slashed me up” 

“Do you know if he’s still around?”

“I don’t believe he is,” she showed her sharp bloody claws “ I scratched up the bastard pretty good”

Mothra looked away “well at least that’s good I’d rather not have to meet him anytime soon” 

There was another long stretch of silence as the four-armed woman finished up wrapping Manda’s torso. Mothra had not a single clue on what to do now or if there was anything else now past this point. The bleeding had mostly stopped but she had already lost so much blood at this point that she started looking more and more pale. “I don’t think I can do anything else to help Manda…I’m so sorry” 

“Why are you apologizing, you did all you could?”

“But what if you die? You already said your egg was destroyed so know that this will be you last life, you know that right?”

“So be it,” Manda took Mothra’s tiny hands into her own “at least I’ll die knowing at least one person on this planet has a heart strong enough to save someone like me…” 

Although Manda’s hands were cold and almost lifeless she never wanted to let go of her new friend. Mothra cupped the taller woman’s face with her other set of hands “and I’m honored to be viewed like that by you my friend…” 

Manda gave a weak smile “It’s amazing how someone can be honored by anything a monster like me has to say…” 

“How are you a monster?”

“I’ve fought in this war as much as everyone else yet an angel like you can forgive and try to save my disgusting life…” 

“But just like me you want the fighting to end don’t you” Mothra asked. Manda only responded with a quick nod as she leaned her face into Mothra’s left hand. “Then you aren’t a monster Manda you’re a victim of this war just like me or anyone else that wants this all to end”

The blue haired woman spent the next few minutes gazing into Mothra’s warm welcoming eyes and smiled “I wish there were more people in this world like you…”

“You don’t have to wish Manda, I can already tell that you and me are more alike than I had originally thought”

“I guess we are…” she gave a slight chuckle as she looked out of the entrance of the cave as the sun began to finally set, the reflection laying softly on the ocean's surface. “I can’t believe the day I’m dying is the best I’ve ever had, and it’s all thanks to you” 

“I’m glad I could give you one good part of life to remember” Mothra said removing her hands from her face and wrapping them around Manda’s body pulling her into a tight hug.  

Manda returned the embrace staying silent and enjoying what may be her final moments before speaking “I think it’s time for me to rest now…” 

“Alright I hope to see you in the morning…” Mothra said starting to get back back up and to the deepest part of the cave

“Wait Mothra!”

“Yes?” she hummed looking back at the injured woman

“Can you,” Manda looked up “please stay with me I don’t want to be alone, I'm still scared of what will happen to me…” 

Mothra had already forgotten about what was going to happen to her only friend as she had gotten lost in her cold but loving embrace “of course Manda it’s the least I could do” she moved back into her spot and continued to embrace her. She had only just noticed how much larger Manda was compared to her as her hands danced around her curves admiring ever part of her as Manda played with her soft fluffy hair. Mothra closed her eyes as she lightly placed her hands on the taller woman’s wounds, hearing no protest from her friend. She slowly fell asleep as she felt a flurry of emotions the Manda had given her, sadness, remorse, happiness, motivation, and something else that felt stronger than the others but was unidentifiable. It made her feel as if she had yearned for someone like this new friend for centuries and like she could spend her entire life like this by Manda’s side in a strong embrace. 

Slowly Mothra’s eyes fluttered open and it was suddenly morning, as if she hadn't slept at all and was just lost in thought. She tried pulling Manda closer but she couldn’t feel her, the four-armed woman jolted up looking frantically for the woman that had blessed her dreams but she was nowhere to be seen. The thoughts that the only one she could trust had died over night and disappeared had flooded her mind. Mothra got to her feet and looked everywhere in the cave for any trace of Manda but found nothing, she began to cry so panicked the missing woman. The panic made her so light headed that she stumbled out of the cave and onto the shore and sat down letting her emotions take over her as the tears dripped down. Did she really just lose her only friend, her only anything? 

The sobbing continued as she felt something brush the hair out of face, something that felt familiar. She opened her eyes and saw the one she was seeking, Manda seemed less pale than the day before. The blue haired woman laid on the sandy shore and the other half in the ocean. 

“I’m sorry, did I miss something?” she asked 

Mothra pulled Manda into a tight hug to her surprise “Are you okay? Please tell me you’re okay!” she shouted her tears still pouring. 

“Yes I’m fine, I’m perfectly fine angel” she said pulling herself out of the hug. 

“Oh thank goodness, how are your injuries?” 

“ Well actually,” Manda said coming out of the ocean completely and sitting next to Mothra “the ones where you left your hand last night are completely gone?” 

“How could it only be those ones?” she pointed at where they once were “there isn’t even a single scar left? And how was it only the place where I left my hand?” 

“I’m not very versed in these kind of things but you could possibly be a healer?” Manda said “That’s quite impressive honestly, very few have that ability, even less that are still alive” 

Mothra paused “Do you believe that could come in handy in this war?”

“What do you mean, I thought you hated this war? Why would you want to suddenly get involved?” 

“I never said for fighting anyone I mean to stop it”

“Please elaborate I’m curious”

“I’m saying that if I keep healing others maybe I can change their minds on their constant need to fight?” Mothra spoke “I’m sorry that made no sense…”

“No,no, I kinda get where you’re coming from” Manda replied “So if you show enough kindness to the weak and wounded they’ll switch sides and eventually you can beat out the leaders of this war so it can end?”

“Yeah like that!” the four-armed woman exclaimed, “but I think I’ll need someone to help me with this…”

“Well if you’re referring to me you don’t even have to ask Motha, after the kindness you showed me I owe you all the help I can give” 

Mothra leaned on Manda’s shoulder “thank you Manda, it means a lot that you actually care…”

She twirled her long hair “it’s nothing really Mothra…” 

“So anyways I have another question to ask of you Manda” Motha said poking her two fingures together

“Go ahead speak your mind little lady”

“Soooo I was thinking since you and I are friends now, right?” 

“Wait just frie- I mean um yes of course we are, what about it?” Manda stuttered 

“Is it okay if I just stick with you?” Mothra asked, as Manda only raised an eyebrow in response.

“Like can we share the same shelture and all that stuff? I’m not gonna staple myself to you, I just really like you-” she said mumbling the last part “-r company..yeah your company!”

“Hmm, I suppose so, I usually stay underwater but I guess I’ll stay on land for you since you don’t look like the best swimmer” 

“Oh thank you, thank you, Manda staying with you is going to be so great!” Mothra exclaimed. “I can’t wait for it to be just you and me fixing this mess of a war!”

“Me neither Mothra…” she said as she held one of Mothra’s hands “me neither…”

Kingdom of Ash Review

4/5 stars

Recommended for people who like: high fantasy, strong female leads, friendships, hero's journey, multiple POVs Okay, I will be the first to admit I love this series maybe to the point of obsessing and that I bought and read this the day it came out....but this book is also entirely too long. There are two parts to this book, with the second part starting ~600 pages. The first part had some good content in it, but there was also a lot of space that didn't need to be there as well, descriptions and chapters and POVs that could've been cut out without really affecting the story or plot in any way. I especially felt that way when I hit part 2 and felt like the book should've ended there and Maas should've made part 2 a separate book (albeit a somewhat short one). The more I thought about it though, the more I realized that if she'd done it that way, we'd have a mostly boring 7th book and an action-packed, but shorter 8th book in the series....which is why I came back to the idea that she should've just cut scenes from part 1. There were so many scenes of the armies just moving or camping, and then there'd be a scene where an army was just casually mentioned as having been moved without showing us the movement, and I feel like if the book had done more of the latter it would've 1) moved quicker, 2) been less boring in part 1, and 3) been shorter. But I digress. The review will have some spoilers, I hide the major ones as always, but if you don't want spoilers, don't read below the cut. Non-spoilery review here.

The book opens with Aelin, who is not in a good place right now. Despite fears, it's only been two months since Maeve and Cairn got a hold of her. The scenes in the beginning are...dark. There's heavy mentions of torture and mind manipulation and death and all sorts of really horrible stuff. Some of the torture scenes get more descriptions than others, it's nothing I would call graphic, but it's enough to make your skin crawl and twitch. On the plus side, Aelin does escape *SPOILER* super plus, she manages to get herself out of Cairn and Maeve's grasp, even if there were other forces behind it *SPOILER END* and she teams up with Rowan, Lorcan, Elide, and Gavriel. The lot of them + Fenrys basically haul ass out of Wendlyn....which is where it gets boring. Reading several chapters of them traveling is not that interesting, even if some stuff happens during that time, there was definitely other ways to bring it about and/or ways to shorten the mentions of them traveling and bring them back to stuff that actually happens. Aelin really drew the shit-stick when it came to destinies the day they were handing them out, I'll say that. Before I get too off the tracks, I was really not happy when it was revealed that all of Aelin's scars were wiped away. Like...I get they had a lot of healing to do on her, but really, all of them? It's part of the trauma, everyone's horrified by it, but I wonder if it really had to be in there. Part of the draw of Aelin was that she was so scarred, that it could be seen, especially since a lot of her scars were testaments to her survival despite the odds. Having her skin just suddenly be scar-free felt....oily to me. Also kind of bummed that Aelin didn't really fight in the war that much. She was in two battles while pretty much everyone else was in a battle every ten chapters. I wanted to see her fight more than she did. In terms of development, Aelin has both internal and external development. On the one hand, she has to contend with the new round of torture she'd endured and raise herself back out of the depression she's in--I definitely appreciate the different ways Maas depicts depression, I'll say that, it's different for different people and situations, which true to life and nice to see. On the other hand, she also has to contend with the Lock and the throne and the coming battles. Throughout the book, she has to look at a situation and decide if it's worth stopping to help if it means more fall to Erawen's forces down the line when either helping or continuing on could mean Erawen wins. Sometimes she makes the right decision, sometimes, like with the Lock, she doesn't (*SPOILER* I still feel bad when people get mad at her about the Lock though, even if I understand and kind of side with them, lol *SPOILER END*). Aelin has to shed a lot of the stuff that's happened and the weight of every success and failure and destiny and god as she moves through his book and finishes her development. Aelin comes through strong in the end, despite her mistakes, and I think the way things end for her is perfect for her arc and what it's been building toward. When Elide said she was pissed with Lorcan, she bloody well meant it. I don't think the two of them are on good terms until several chapters into part 2. I'm kind of surprised she didn't kill Lorcan in his sleep for how mad she was at him. Aside from her being pissy, we also get to see more of her using her observation powers and calm cunning to outsmart their opponents multiple times. She's vital to getting Aelin back, and she's vital to the final battle in the book as well. I really enjoyed seeing her development in full-swing, especially when it came to confronting her uncle. Vernon is an ass, but he's not wrong that witch blood flows through her and it shows when she's making decisions regarding enemies and opponents. Elide's cleverness and cunning plays a huge role in some of the major schemes and events in the book, which was awesome to see. By the end of her development, she feels like a Lady more than she did in the previous books. Aedion and Lysandra are playing their parts as they get settled in Terrasen and prepare for the coming war. The interactions between the two of them are...tense, to say the least. I can see why Aedion would be angry with her, but I don't necessarily agree with it or with the way he handles the situation. Because he's honestly an ass *SPOILER* until Lysandra almost dies *SPOILER END* and if I were Lysandra, I wouldn't give him the time of day. Aedion is angry in this one, like, really really angry. He's angry at Maeve, angry at the Terrasen lords, angry at Lysandra, even angry at Aelin, to an extent. I felt like all the maturity he had in the previous three books just sort of disappeared and he just lost all perspective for first half of the book. There's an instance when Aedion is thinking about how Aelin should've conferred with everyone before making plans with Lysandra, apparently, conveniently forgetting that Maeve made a surprise!capture of Aelin and that Aelin hadn't sacrificed herself to the Lock. He was literally angry at them about something neither of them had planned nor had control over, but that Lysandra acted upon in order to help rally the troops....riiight. So, for most of the book I just really didn't like Aedion, and then he got miraculously better and was suddenly back to being himself. He basically pulled an Elide but for less good reasons. Obviously, this is the last book and so it's the end of the character development. For Aedion, I feel like a lot of his development in this book is on the emotional side of things. He deals with maturing a little bit when it comes to people making decisions he doesn't like. He also develops in that he realizes he can be fatally wrong. He was wrong about Aelin and the allies in the end of EoS, he's wrong about Lysandra in this one, and he's wrong about some of the strategies and maneuvers he tries as well. He's definitely someone, I think, that doesn't handle things Going Wrong very well, and so his development is mainly focused on improving that in this book. And, of course, part of that development is reconsidering his anger and resentment toward Gavriel. Once we get into part 2 of the book, we see him really doing a reversal and growing as a person (I definitely like him better in part 2). Lysandra is another character who gets the short end of the stick in this one. She has to juggle pretending to be Aelin while also shifting to go on scouting missions and fighting to help the army while in battle. The only person there who knows she isn't Aelin is Aedion....who is pissed to no end with her. I think it's clear from the get-go that Lysandra doesn't necessarily expect to survive the war, but Aelin's friendship and offer for a better world combined with knowing that if they win Evangeline will get to live keeps her going. It gets better in part 2 of the book, which is definitely the 'upward curve' part of things for just about every character. We get more Lysandra-narrated chapters in part 1 of the book, so there's not really a whole lot to say about the second part, but it did feel that the second part of the book, for her, was more about redeveloping her relationship with Aedion. There was just less of a focus on her going into battle and I wish Maas had expanded these more, since it was cool to read about her fighting in different forms and how they used those forms to their advantage. Manon, of course, remains one of my favorites and she was with the Thirteen trying to find the Corchans. So, uh, the Crochan witches are not as goody-two-shoes and nice as I was expecting. I mean, to be fair, I probably wouldn't be in their position either, but still, it is well established that if I were a witch I definitely wouldn't be the benign kind. Manon's arc in this one is mostly about tackling her new heritage and how to either pick a side or balance them both. Manon, quite literally, comes into feelings for pretty much the first time ever, so that was fun to read about. Her relationship with Dorian was just weird, though it felt a little more natural in this one than it did in QoS, though I still think she and Elide would've been good together. She was unbalanced in this book, mostly because of aforementioned feelings, but the inability to balance and the struggle to win over the Crochans while still keeping true to herself forged her. Manon is one of the characters who I think gets a pretty solid arc throughout Part 2 of the series (and technically Part 1, since HoF is in that part when I divide the books plotwise, but w/e). There are definitely some things in this book regarding her that I would change,  mainly re: the Thirteen and Dorian, but overall I think she has one of the strongest arcs in KoA. Dorian also undergoes a significant arc transformation in this book. I think multiple people in the books acknowledged that he still felt like a prince during and at the end of EoS, but as this book opens and develops, we get to see Dorian continue to struggle with the collar, his abilities, and the Lock, which in turn triggers the final phase of his development arc. He does get a bit of that cunningness and cruelty he marked in Manon and Aelin, and he is able to trick his way in and out of things. I kind of miss how soft he used to be, since almost as a necessity of this transformation he loses a lot of that softness--but not entirely!--and it kind of makes me nostalgic for when he was just a cinnamon bun princeling, but I think the changes are, for the most part, good for him as a character. Like Elide, by the end of KoA, Dorian actually felt like a king as opposed to someone who just had that title in front of their name. Yrene is an interesting character and I wish there'd been more of a chance for her to shine in the beginning of the book like she does later on. I also wish she hadn't been pregnant. Call me crazy, but she's a healer, she mentioned in ToD that she could brew something for Nesryn, and they're about to go into war but she somehow gets pregnant? Are you kidding me? But that aside, Yrene really does come through with her Valg-healing powers and plays a huge role in how things play out. A lot of her arc already played out in ToD, so her actions are mostly external and push the plot or other characters forward. I wish she had a bigger narrative element to her in this book, and while she does get her due later on, I feel like this is one of those areas that could've been expanded had extraneous scenes been cut. For all the traveling Chaol and co have to do, they certainly get into the thick of things faster than Aelin does. We finally get to close the loop with Chaol's father that was opened in the series' Part 1, which I think was the only unresolved part of Chaol's arc. Like Yrene, a lot of his arc was dealt with in ToD. He does, however, adjust to being the King's Hand, and having the power to forge alliances and give land and whatnot. I loved his reunion with Dorian. It took over half the book, but it did eventually happen and we later got to see them fight side-by-side! This is apparently the space where I complain characters aren't given their due, because I feel like Nesryn got shorted too. Again, in part 1 of the book, she barely gets any narration and the narration she does get is her worrying about Sartaq. Like, good grief, both of you have seen battle before, I'm sure you'll be fine. She also worries a lot over the role of empress and is a bit hesitant over it, but it's not really a major touching point. I feel like there was some development of Nesryn as a ruk rider that we didn't get to see in either book, yet somehow she was a good enough flyer and had adjusted enough to the difference between fighting on foot and on the back of a ruk that they let her fly in the aerial legions. It's not really something that needed a ton of focus, but a little more than it actually got would've been nice and would've rounded out the physical arc with the ruk riders she had going on in ToD. I feel like Rowan wasn't a huge narrative presence in this one, unfortunately. He was obviously worried for Aelin and was trying to be attentive, but he also had some of his own schemes up his sleeve that we don't get to see until the very end (Aelin clearly rubbed off on him in more ways than one). I think the major shift with him is that he and Aelin are more like a team again in this one, like they were in QoS, where they scheme together and apart, whereas in EoS they did more scheming apart than together. I have to say, I really like them being a team better than I liked their separate, but supportive schemes in EoS. Lorcan had all, or most of, his narrative chapters dropped, though we did get to see some of them. Lorcan's definitely not in a good place for most of this book. He realizes he fucked up by calling Maeve and that not only did he fuck up in calling Maeve, but he fucked up in ever serving Maeve as loyally as he did. Lorcan's arc is largely about redemption from that and coming to the realization that there are other options and the potential for a better world out there, as cliche as it is to say. A decent portion of his page-time is also dedicated to getting back into Elide's good graces, as pretty much everyone else gets over Lorcan's mistake pretty quickly, even Aelin, funnily enough. Evangeline got narrative chapters in this book, which I was happy to see. I can't really remember how old she is, 10 I think, but she's definitely mature for her age and clever as a whip. I think that, even with everything Aelin and the others do against Erawen and Maeve, Evangeline's the one to really convince Darrow to stop being stuck up about the throne and crown. I did think it was a little weird when she became his ward and heir without mention of whether she was also still Lysandra's ward and heir still. It just warranted more of an explanation than we got. Nox came back in this one, which was a nice, if not unexpected surprise. Unfortunately, he meets Lysandra!Aelin and then yeets into the distance and there is Absolutely No Resolution regarding where he went, what happened to him, or if he actually met the real Aelin again. Even if it was only a couple lines, Falkan did get to reunite with Lysandra, so we got the nod there. If we're talking about characters who got done dirty, the Thirteen and Gavriel are at the top of the list. I really like the Thirteen and wish they got more page-time individually. We know Asterin and Sorrel the best out of them, I think, but the others are sort of background names I felt like. They're such an interesting and complex bunch, and they have some of the only continually included gay characters and characters of color in the book that I really wish they got more attention. Not to mention, people Aelin and Dorian care about get chapters dedicated to them, but people Manon cares about don't? How does that make sense? I also really hated how their arcs ended [ they sacrificed themselves to take out the last witch tower. Like, it's poetic and broke the curse on the Wastes, but (pun aside) it was such a fucking waste to have that be the answer (hide spoiler)]. Gavriel was such a warm and caring character and he really only wanted to bond and spend time with Aedion, and then he's separated from Aedion for most of the book only to reunite in battle. He, of course, has a similar course to the Thirteen...like, almost exactly just with a different situation, actually. As much as I loved the book, I will admit that some of it was predictable. If you've browsed the fan theories since EoS and ToD came out, then you've probably come across some of the theories that turned out to be true. Maybe we just got really good at reading Maas' foreshadowing, but I do feel that some of the major elements of this book were more predictable than before. My least favorite theory that came true is the one where *SPOILER* Aelin loses almost all her power and is saved in part by her water and Mala, but remains at a low level of power; honestly, I can understand Aelin losing some of her powers, but for the supposedly most powerful female Fae in the world to be reduced to mere embers and some water, while she's surrounded by powerful male Fae like Rowan and Fenrys and Dorian, who end up being more powerful than her after she forges the Lock, is annoying (especially when it was said earlier in the series that power calls to power)*END SPOILER*. So, 4/5 stars overall. I really like a lot of the stuff that happens in the book,  it was great to see Nox again and seeing everyone with their powers out and fighting was awesome, and I think most of the characters get a good resolution to their arcs. However, the book is way too long, is too boring during certain parts of it to warrant it being that long, and definitely did some characters dirty. Combined with the fact my least fav theory came true--a little petty? maybe--and the fact that aside from the characters done wrong, no one really dies, I decided to drop a star despite the other interesting things that happen during this book.

Unforeseen circumstances | MYG - Chapter 01

pairing: Min Yoongi x OC

genre/warnings: fluff, angst, yoongi having no chill whatsoever

words: 4181

Summary: They never had a chance to begin with, but they were young and in love, they thought they knew better.

Lee Yoonah’s parents had carefully planned her whole life from the moment of her conception. Min Yoongi was the one variable that they never counted on, but that was corrected in due time, just before their graduation in college, or so they thought.

Or: In which life doesn’t respect no one’s plans.

(please read the prologue first)

Chapter 01:

5 years later

Kim Seongjoo was a man with many admirable qualities. He was smart, accomplished in his field of work, had a good relationship with his family, could speak four languages, and was remarkably handsome.

Any woman would be honored to become his wife. At least that was what her mother kept repeating.

Unfortunately for Seongjoo, even when combined, those qualities weren’t enough to redeem his biggest two flaws, as assessed by Lee Yoonah.

The first and most relevant right then: he just stood her up on what was supposed to be their first 'private' date, the one time they would finally be able to meet without their respective families interference. The second, manageable one: she wasn’t attracted to him at all.

Rereading the text of the half-assed apology her 'fiancé apparent' sent her, Yoonah let out a resigned sigh and ordered a drink. She had left work earlier than usual, and dressed up prettily for this. However, truth be told, Yoonah had no tears to shed over Seongjoo's inability to follow his own schedule. In all sincerity, she was even pleased by this turn of events, thanks to which she could enjoy a couple of fancy drinks by herself.

She’s one gin and tonic and a half through the night, contemplating on using her father’s corporative credit card to pay for this frustrated business meeting when the universe gets bored with her passive attitude towards life and decides to shake things up.

He sees her first, all breath leaving his body. It has been five years since Min Yoongi last laid eyes on the woman that, in all honesty, was still the love of his life.

Time had been generous with her. The girly roundness of her features had subdued slightly into more defined lines, and her hair was shorter, the midnight black tresses stopping under her collarbones. Yoonah was even lovelier than he remembered, a fucking angel of misery, consuming his whole existence just by sitting there, decked in her ivory lace dress.

Yoongi stood frozen in the middle of his favorite bar, trying to discern of the wave of feelings that overwhelm his senses, and the fight or flight response kicked in. His brain takes charge over his body, deciding on flighting the scene. Fortunately, he manages just one step towards the door before the overly friendly, foreigner bartender, Mark, notices him and waves happily calling his full name.

“Min Yoongi-ssi!”

Yoonah’s head turns towards him so fast that he is sure she will experience some minor case of whiplash. Her drink almost slips from her hand, and her doe eyes widen comically. The whole scene makes his heart constrict in his chest.

Her panicked gaze is too much to ignore, so Yoongi suppresses the urge to run away and decides to seize the unexpected opportunity to hear her voice again. He controls his face and offers what he hopes to be a soft smile, waving absentmindedly at Mark to bring his usual whiskey while walking to the stool she occupies.

Yoonah’s mind works in overdrive, she can feel the blood rushing through her body at a speed that can’t be healthy.

Yoongi looks like the polished version of the boy she met in college, and the familiarity of his looks is almost too much for her heart to take.

His hair is bleached blonde again, but a shade lighter than the one she remembers. His ears are still pierced, but now he sports three silver hoops in each lobe. Instead of flannels, he’s wearing a pair of retro-styled horn-rimmed glasses, paired with a black turtleneck sweater and an elegant coat.

He throws a shy smile her way, and she feels like her ears will combust, but somehow manages to smirk back, raising her hand in greeting. She genuinely hopes for Yoongi to speak first because she can’t find her voice.

“Hey, Yoonah-ah… How’re you doing?!” He croaks, voice low, hand outstretched.

If someone were to tell her a few hours ago that the convenience date imposed on her would bail, and that she would end her night carrying a mildly awkward conversation with Min Yoongi, Yoonah would suggest for the person to have its head checked.

Not even in her wildest dreams, she would consider that a reunion with her ex-boyfriend would go so smoothly. She had spent a good part of those last four years musing over their parting words, the bitterness in his tear stained face when he accused her of not fighting for them. She meekly carried the weight of his disappointment, accepting the worst part of their breakup as a fact: Yoongi would never forgive her for not standing up against her parents. For selling them short.

But there he was, calmly catching up to the events of her life’s past years, a bashful smile tugging at the corners of his dainty lips whenever she averted his feline eyes as if the past did not affect him at all, as if their break up had resulted from a friendly agreement.

Maybe it felt like that to Yoongi by then, she mused. Yoonah had heard about his accomplishments, even amongst her stuffy colleagues at the magazine he was known, the ‘genius producer Suga’, still using the same pseudonym he adopted in their last year at university, a guy who was reinventing the rap and hip-hop scenario in Korea.

Perhaps after conquering everything he’d ever dreamt of, he saw what they had lived as non-consequential. The thought left a sour taste in Yoonah's mouth, and that was probably what prompted her to voice her worries. Either that or the arrival of her third drink of the night.

“Am I forgiven?” she blurted out just to immediately regret it and blush furiously.

Yoongi stopped in the middle of his update about the newest restaurant Kim Seokjin was opening, clearly surprised.

“Why would I have to forgive you for anything?” he asks in confusion, he reaches to touch her before thinking better about it and retreating.

“As I recall it, you weren’t very pleased with my choices the last time we spoke…” she answers without meeting his eyes.

“Ah...Yoonah-ah…”

Yoongi removes his glasses, momentarily hiding his face in his hand, ears flaming red. He really did not expect her to bring out the elephant in the room. He had this silly hope that maybe they would carry on talking about amenities and, in a perfect world, part ways as friends. It seemed like a solid plan in his mind. But then, Yoonah had made a habit of messing up with his plans from the moment when they first spoke.

“I’m very sorry about what I said back then… really. I hoped that maybe you had forgotten about my outburst...” He takes a long sip of his drink, signaling Mark for a refill. If they were discussing their past, he would need it.

“Look, it wasn’t your fault, Yoonah-ah… It took me a while to finally understand it, to accept that I was to blame... I knew about your parents' arrangement from the beginning and still wanted to try my luck at changing their ways… Fuck, truth be told, I begged you to give it a shot. You warned me, and still, I went out of my way to convince you that it would work out, didn’t I?” He sighs, touching his earrings in distress.

She stares in utter and complete shock, trying to make sense of the words that keep coming out of Yoongi’s mouth.

“I’m so sorry, Yoonah… I’ve never meant for you to carry this guilty alone…” He says, embarrassment coloring both his face and his voice. “Ah, shit, I should’ve known better…”

“You don’t hate me, then?” She finally answers, searching for confirmation in his eyes.

“Hate you? Of course not! God, Yoonah! I couldn’t hate you even when I wanted to!” Yoongi almost falls from his stool at the complete absurd of her question, this time his hand reaches for hers on its own accord, caressing her cold fingers absently.

The sudden lightness in her chest leaves Yoonah feeling slightly dizzy, and she convinces herself that this is the reason why she tightens her grip on Yoongi’s hand, relishing in the warmth of his touch.

For the past four years the memory of the hurt and despise on his eyes during their last meeting was such a constant weight in her conscience that Yoona simple forgot how it was to live without the worry.

The producer could almost see the worry being lifted from her shoulders, the light returning to her eyes warming his insides, feeding his urge to simply hold her closer. Even if they were never to talk again after this night, Yoongi felt grateful that he had the chance to correct this misunderstanding.

That warmth is what prompts him to finally ask the question that had kept him awake for countless nights throughout those years.

“Have you ever heard any of my music, Yoonah-ah?”

His guiltiest pleasure was trying to talk to her using the idols voices, sending encrypted messages through his lyrics, with the foolish hope that she would listen to them and maybe, by some miracle, try and reach out for him.

It was a long shot, and it wasn’t a healthy habit, he was aware of that. Kim Namjoon, one of his best friends and co-worker, had noticed it years ago and tried to convince Yoongi that it was a masochist practice, but the producer just argued that he couldn’t really control his inspirations. In the end, he won the argument. After all, the music he made from his own angst was recognized as his best and awarded accordingly.

The true shock for him was seeing hurt flooding Yoonah’s eyes at his question, and he watched anxiously as she fidgeted with her hair and took a long sip of her drink before finally whispering.

“I’ve listened to the first one… Truth be told, I’ve been avoiding them ever since…”

Yoongi was sure it would have been better had her slapped him. He would have her listening to some of his raciest lyrics and being pissed any day rather than the one song she admitted to knowing.

But of course the universe could spare him no mercy, and amongst the three years worth of desperate love pleas he sent her way, the one message that reached Yoonah was the raw note written by this freshly heartbroken version of himself, filled with misdirected anger.

The lyrics to that particular song haunted him quite often. It was the demo that got him signed up as a producer in his present company, the creation that opened all the doors for him, and yet, the one he regretted daily. Because, at the end of the day, he knew Lee Yoonah, and dreaded the exact scenario he's now facing: The one person he never really meant to hurt took his harsh words by heart.

Yoongi reaches for his phone without a second thought, while the fingers of his free hand start roaming Yoonah's forearm in an unstudied caress, seeking to soothe her pain at the best of his ability, all property be damned.

Yoonah finally raises her head at that,  all nervous ends on her body jumping into high alert while her eyes stay trained on his healing touch, so familiar even after all those years.

Unaware of that, Yoongi focuses on opening his Evernote and scrolls through the app, a trademark frown signaling his concentration until it's replaced by a short-lived satisfied expression, that turns into gravity once he looks back towards the woman in front of him.

“Yoonah, I need you to know that I don’t really feel like the boy who wrote that song. I was hurting, and I was lost… We had so much planned. We were going to spend the weekend with my family so they could get to know you better, remember? Against my better judgment, I had this whole plan for our lives together… And suddenly everything changed…” He scratches his ear, voice getting softer “At the time I felt like someone stole my future, and I couldn’t see that you’re wronged as well… I regret it so much.”

At that, he slides the phone towards Yoonah.  She immediately recognizes the title displayed at the top of the document. She has conditioned herself to check the team behind every single song released by the artists signed under the same label as Yoongi before listening to them, feeling like it was always better to be safe than sorry. This one is fairly new, a ballad from a popular solist, that her colleagues from the magazine raved about for a few weeks.

“I’ve tried to apologize, you know? I’ve written you so many lyrics over the years, using other peoples' voices to tell you everything I should've told you that night…" His eyes pierce hers in an almost desperate plea, and his fingers grip slightly at her sleeve’s fabric "I know I have no right to ask you this, but please read at least one of them, to understand what I meant. Just this one?”

Deep down she knows it isn’t a good idea, that this whole conversation is actually a terrible idea, but she completely ignores this notion. Because Yoonah knows she doesn’t want to live another minute with the belief that the lyrics of his first famous song were Yoongi’s last words to her.

Her eyes scam the lyrics faster than her heart and brain can process them, and she needs to read the whole thing thrice before finally absorbing Yoongi’s words. She doesn’t know what she was expecting, but surely enough, it wasn’t anything as raw as the emotions bared on the screen.

The man portrayed by the song dwells with being unable to forget someone, he struggles with his hope of finally meeting that person again and his knowledge that this would hurt him. He regrets deeply that he’d tainted the memories of their relationship, and he wonders if he can be forgiven. There was too much left unsaid and he fears it is too late for apologies.

When Yoonah finishes her reading, Yoongi is staring at her, anxiety written in every line of his body. Sometime along the way he had retrieved his hand, that now fidgets with the turtle-neck from his sweater.

“This was inspired by me?” She finally asks, her eyes stinging suspiciously.

“No. It was entirely written for you.” He goes back to twisting his earring “Too much?”

“No… Maybe? I just wasn’t expecting this at all… I don’t know what to say…” and it’s true, she feels lost, it’s too much.

The silence stretches between them and she goes back at scanning the lyrics, desperate for something to anchor her turbulent thoughts. Yoongi awaits in apparent patience, his impassive mask enough to fool anyone watching them from afar.

“You really don’t remember our last kiss?” Yoonah finally questions, embarrassment and incredulity coloring her features, and Yoongi is clearly surprised by that turn in the subject.

“No… Do you?”

“Yes… It was on the day my mother gave me the ultimatum. You were finishing your demo and had been locked at the studio for fourteen hours, remember?” Yoongi nods, eager to retrieve at least this bit of memory.

“I stopped by to drop some food before my lunch with her, we talked for a bit, and I kissed you goodbye before leaving… It wasn’t anything special.”

She looks away after that, because the longing on his feline eyes becomes too much for her body to handle.

“That was really anticlimactic, wasn’t it? I was hoping for something more remarkable…” Yoongi blurts, taking a sip of his drink, a bittersweet smirk adorning his face.

Yoonah surprises even herself by snorting at his antics. He was right, though, it wasn’t a last kiss worth of the kind of passionate relationship they had.

“I wasn’t expecting for it to be a last kiss! I would have done better if it was planned.” She quips, boldly holding his gaze.

“Really?”

She raises her eyebrows, as if that was the most outrageous doubt he could have. It was.

“You would have to prove it to me. You know I’m a skeptic at heart…” his half smile doesn’t waiver, even though his ears color once again.

“That’s not a good joke…”

As she speaks, Yoongi calmly slides closer to her, and she can see that the glint in his eyes is anything but playful.

“It isn’t a joke, you’ll really have to show me.”

“Do you want to drive me crazy?” Yoonah feels her face heating just from the strength of his gaze, and wonders if she really wants to deny him.

“I mean it… I am not really asking for much, am I? I just want the memory of our last kiss, it’s something that has been haunting me.”

He can pinpoint the exact moment when she hesitates, and shamelessly uses it in his favor.

“Please? So we both leave this bar with one regret less?”

Yoonah’s doe eyes widen, but she knows the battle would be lost even if she felt like fighting it.

“You are playing dirty…” she says, but nods slightly at him.

Yoongi smiles with the satisfaction of a cat that had just found a bowl of unattended cream, dropping to his feet and taking a step into her personal space.

“Here? It’s a crowded bar, and you’re never fond of PDA, Min Yoongi.”

“I’m willing to make an exception tonight.”

She can’t help smiling, especially when his fingers lightly caress her face.

“Make it count…”

At first, his lips move softly against hers, the feeling comforting and familiar, as if only a couple of days had passed since they last met. This doesn’t last long, as Yoonah changes their pace, tongue tracing the seam of his lips, hungrily demanding more. Yoongi smiles against her mouth and concedes, while sliding his hand to her waist, pulling her as close as possible while in public.

She is also the one who breaks the kiss, face red and breath slightly erratic. Her fingers are still clutched to the front of his sweater, and she is sure they have an audience, but Yoongi seems unaware of their surroundings and is clearly unsatisfied because he only takes one deep breath before kissing her again.

This time the kiss is hot and demanding, and she instantly drowns in the feeling. Yoongi cards his hands on her hair, and when he separates their lips, he holds her gaze with inhuman intensity, like he’s trying to leave an impression. As if one was still needed.

They stand like that for a while, until the sound of Mark carefully delivering Yoongi’s drink order breaks them out of their haze. It’s also a clear reminder for Yoonah of where she is, and why.  

“I had an arranged date. That’s why I’m here alone… He stood me up.”

Anyone else would have been at least hurt by her words, but Yoongi only tilts his head, eyes fixed on her now swollen lips. He understands the purpose of this seemingly impromptu confession. Yoongi had played that game with her already, back when they were still a casual fling, Yoonah would always conjure obstacles for him to jump whenever she felt too emotionally exposed, as a reminder that they couldn’t be together.  

“One of your parents candidates?”  He asks, taking a sip of the glass left by the barman.

“The chosen one, as far as I was told…” She answers, looking away. Her voice almost falters, but she finds out that it’s easier to keep it together if he isn’t looking straight into her soul.

This gets him, and producer stays quiet for a moment that seems to stretch into infinity.

“Lucky bastard…” He finally says.

“My father says he has had enough of me rejecting everyone and stalling… Apparently, I’m not getting any younger as well…”

“That’s the shittiest reasoning I’ve ever heard… And I work for the entertainment industry.” He still sounds bored, but the ominous gleam of his eyes tell the truth. “Do you even know the guy? Do you like him?”

She emits a dejected sound that, he supposes, was meant to be a chuckle.

“I’ve met him and his family… He looks decent. I was told that he’s graduated with honors and is very accomplished at his job. He seems... okay.”

“Well, I am all of those things, and I had the advantage of harboring sincere feelings towards you… But I suppose the golden spoon is a tiebreaker, right?”

“Min Yoongi, don’t be a dick! I wouldn’t be drinking here alone if I was happy about the arrangement.” She spits her words at him, finally meeting his gaze.

He threads on dangerous waters, and he knows, but Yoonah’s last statement made him feel like his reckless younger self. For the first time in many years, he has true indignation fueling his temper. That and, given, an unhealthy amount of jealousy.

“Right… I was rude… I believe congratulations are in order, right?”

Anyone who met Lee Yoonah after her college days, the lovely young woman, efficiently balancing her job at a prestigious news magazine and her master’s, would classify her as docile. Very few had witnessed the temper and sarcasm that gave color to her real personality, traits her parents taught her to hide so well.

Maybe that was why Yoongi always had a penchant for bringing it to the surface. It probably aroused him, hearing her swear under her breath while staring up at him. He must feel very especial.

“Fine! Do you really want for this to end in animosity? Suit yourself!” She slides from the stool to leave, but he holds her elbow, a determined look on his eyes.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t want to be a jerk to you… I just got mad at the situation.”  He seems repentant, and when he reaches to tuck her hair behind her ear, she leans into his touch, instantly softened.

“I’m mad at it as well, Yoon… But you know as well as I do how my life works, It’s all part of a tightly scheduled agenda. I’ve learned how to live with it long ago, so I suppose I can learn how to live with this arranged marriage as well.” His hand is roaming in a soothing pattern, having traveled from her hair to her shoulder and then down to lace their fingers.

“I will still be missing you, though…” She confesses at least, and his eyes widen. This night has really turned into something unexpected.

He doesn’t know what prompts him to actually voice the crazy suggestion made by his brain. Maybe it was that rediscovered jealousy. Or perhaps it was the wishing tone coloring her words. Either way, it certainly had something to do with the familiar longing for her, rooted deeply in his core.

“Tell me something… Is there anything else scheduled for tonight on this hellish planner of yours?”

Yoonah is surprised by his line of questioning, and even more by the darkness she finds in his eyes when they meet hers.

“Why?”

He takes another sip of his drink, trying to drown the voices of warning on the back of his conscience.

“As I see it, you’re about to sign up for a loveless marriage with a man you don’t seem to care about… Don’t you think you deserve at least a proper hen night? I mean -- If you want it, I’m offering myself.”

Yoonah is glad she isn’t drinking anything when he finishes because she was sure to choke on the liquid while she spurts for air.

“You can’t be serious!”

Yoongi just nods, absently wetting his lips while waiting for her answer. Yoonah is sure her blood is boiling inside of her veins. Because she knows that Yoongi can read her just as easily as she can read him, even after all of this time he still knows exactly what makes her tick.

And right now, she knows his wanting is reflected on her own eyes. Their kisses having awoken the latent hunger she’d come to associate to the producer. And maybe giving in to this feeling and listening to her heart’s desires makes her a masochist, but at least she isn’t alone.

“This night was scheduled until half an hour before you’ve arrived. Right now, I’m on my leisure time so… What do you have in mind?” She finally answers, feeling her face flush from more than just embarrassment and alcohol.

Yoongi’s response is a huge gummy smile, far too sweet to match the owner of the hand fondling the skin of her tight just above the hem of her dress, his body expertly angled to hide his indiscretions from the rest of the patrons in the bar.

When he talks again, it’s in a conspiratorial whisper that has shivers running up her spine and heat spiraling through her whole body.

“Well… Can I persuade you to go completely off the record and come home with me?”

Irmo Headcanons Summary (part 1)

Not including AU headcanons or headcanons that aren’t made by me. Also, I have excluded any headcanons about Irmo’s nightmare form or Dark!Irmo, because this post would have been too chaotic; as well as the concepts related to his Cult (courtesy of @elf-in-a-mask) or anything concerning shipping. These are all the headcanons I have come up with to this day.

IRMO’S APPEARANCE

Irmo’s featues are very delicate; the best way to describe them is probably “doll-like”. His skn, too, is pale like porcelain and his body frail and gaunt; like he is about to break. Unlike most of the Valar whose fanas are impressive in size, Irmo has chosen to have this tiny, lithe, physically feeble fana simply because the nature of his work is not based on the physical realm; thus he does not need to be either strong or big in size. His use of many substances also contributes to his frailness.

He is also incredibly beautiful, and the personification of desire. After all, he was created before the concepts of beauty or desire, hence these concepts were created after his own image.

Same as the fanart I have seen so far, I imagine Irmo to have long, wavy silverish-white hair, which sometimes switches colors, according to his moods (it might turn pastel blue when he feels melancholy or pink in the same way that people blush).

Irmo is the perfect example of Androgyny™. Being the Vala of desires he invented both male and female desires, after all. I cannot help but think of him as an actual hermaphrodite. However, since he invented carnal desires, he also knows how to control them and not leave himself at their mercy. 

Also, he often switches between a female and a male form.

The scariest thing about Irmo is his eyes. His gaze has this eerie expressionless tranquility and looks like he is gazing into nothing; but when he turns to look at someone; that someone has the feeling that Irmo’s eyes penetrate their very soul; all their thoughts and secrets revealed to the Master of Dreams; an experience commonly seen as unnerving and terrifying. His eyes do not have pupils; the irises are iridescent; changing colors according to the angle one looks at them and the illumination, and they emit a strange, purple light. But when he is upset or mad at someone, his eyes turn pit black -very much resembling his brother’s eyes.

Irmo’s eye color usually varies from pale white to silver, to gold, to blue, to pink, to purple.

Irmo’s skin and wings are bioilluminescent and they glow in the dark (that is one of the many reasons butterflies and moths are attracted to him). There are areas of his skin, (like the butterfly pattern on his face) where the bioilluminescene is more intense. Those spots are also full of neural endings, which makes them really sensitive to the touch (a.k.a erogenous zones) 

Speaking of Irmo’s bioilluminescence, this ability cannot be consciously regulated by him. The glowing is completely tied to his emotions and how he is feeling. When sleeping, the light is soft. If he is angry, the light is piercing and will sear your eyes. He will also glow a certain way when he is aroused as well, which leads to some uncomfortable situations.That is because the glow comes from a part of the fea that is related to the unconscious self; and since Irmo’s powers are very much related to the unconscious (as I like to think of it, he IS the vala of the unconscious mind) it makes sense that his glowing is much stronger than the other valar. But still, even though he is the vala of the unconscious mind, he, too, has an unconscious part of the fea; therefore he cannot control the glowing. 

Much like his moths, Irmo’s skin emits pheromones that can influence the thoughts and emotions of the people who come across him.

IRMO’S WINGS

Irmo’s wings are similar to fairy wings; only they are much larger.

His wings do not have a standard color; instead, they are iridescent and translucent; the holographic patterns on them changing according to the illumination.

They look like butterfly wings at first glance, but in fact they are a bit thinner than those and just about equally smooth to the touch.

The best way to describe their structure would be to compare them to stained glass windows; a network of connective tissue and blood vessels providing the basis on which the wing is built.

Naturally, his wings contain also a great amount on nerve endings; which means that they are super sensitive to the touch.

That, combined with how thin they are, is the main reason why he does not let others touch them; unless he trusts them a great deal.But if he does, he REALLY enjoys it.

However, this sensitivity of theirs causes Irmo all sorts of problems. For example, clothing that fully covers his back makes him feel uncomfortable, because the fabric -no matter how soft- irritates and stifles them.

For that reason, Irmo’s fashion choices are on the more…inventive and sensual side, including laces and multiple straps so that they tie around his back instead of covering it.

…and of course, they are very susceptible to injuries and lacerations if handled inappropriately. On the good side, though, they heal really quick.

His wings cannot disappear at will. Instead, they release some kind of pheromone that makes them stick onto his body like a second skin. In that form, etched onto his back, shoulders, waist and thighs, they look like a whole-body tattoo from a distance, until one notices that they are holographic and shimmer; that is.

When Irmo needs to use his wings again, they just stop releasing that pheromone, and as a result, they dry out and detach from his skin, ready for flight.His wings, much like insects’ wings are waterproof. Instead of absorbing it, they form droplets that gradually slide off them. Needless to say; the spectacle of Irmo’s wings being wet after he has had a bath or early, when they catch the morning mist, is priceless to behold.

His wings display such an odd behavior sometimes, that it might seem as if they have will of their own. They tend to make involuntary moves that give away his emotional condition at any given time; be it surprize, annoyance, fear or awkwardness. They also tend to move while he is asleep; somehow managing to keep up with their surroundings. If, for example, someone who Irmo likes sits next to him while he is asleep, his wings will start caressing their face. If someone who Irmo is not that fond of sits next to him, however, they pat them angrily, trying to shove them away.

IRMO’S POWERS/ABILITIES/WORSHIP

The behaviors which are attributed to Irmo are: dreams, desires (carnal or otherwise), visions/hallucinations, slips of the tongue, neuroses, psychoses ritualistic behavior, inspiration/art, meditation, transcendence.

Irmo and Este have also invented pharmacology and consequently, all types of drugs; both recreational and pharmaceutical; whose starting materials are found in abundance in Lorien’s gardens.The maiar are making concoctios of every flower or plant has psychoaffective properties and they try them themselves, noting down what their effects are. However, the maiar cannot get dependant on any of these substances; they view them merely as a part of their work.Similarly, Irmo himself may enjoy the effects that recreational drugs produce, but he cannot get dependant on them or even get high enough to be incapable of rational thinking and normal functioning.Irmo may know more about drugs than anyone else, but he is very strict when it comes to their consumption by people who are not in need of them; that is why phenomena such as drug dependency really disappoint and confuse him.

Additionally, Irmo represents he horror of nightmares and creeping insanity.

The gemstones that are attributed to Irmo (and irmo’s worship) are amethyst, moonstone and opal. 

Moths, butterflies and other kinds of insects are canonically associated with Irmo because of the whole “metamorphosis” concept. Serpents too; because they shed their skin -so they go through a kind of metamorphosis too- and are poisonous. And of course, amphibians like axolotls and toads, -they go through a metamorphosis, shed their skin AND produce substances with psychoaffective and even toxic properties

One of the most famous phrases that are linked to Irmo is “Edro Sēlda”, which in Quenya means “Open your Eye”.

Irmo cannot leave the gardens of Lorien, except for very short periods of time; because the gardens themselves are an extension of his self. Without his presence there, the flowers wither and winter comes to the gardens. 

Although he has all the good intentions in the world, he just cannot communicate in a common-sense-compatible way, which makes getting along almost impossible. Not all hope is lost, though, because his dream logic does makes sense if someone sleeps or meditates upon what he has said; besides, he can still communicate in non-verbal ways, like sending visions and interacting directly with the other person’s fea. Due to his odd antics, his company is obviously not everyone’s cup of tea, but he does maintain a small circle of loyal friends. He is very lenient and caring with his maiar, always willing to listen to their ideas and viewpoints; and he trusts them enough to let them run the gardens when he is too preoccupied in creating dreamworlds (which is most of the time). However, there is a set of unspoken rules that he maintains and should be respected by everyone in the Gardens; though they are in a form of ever-present subtext, subtle enough to go unnoticed and clear enough not to be misinterpreted.

Irmo can see into the thoughts of all beings, including those of the other Valar. Doing that includes not only hearing the thoughts themselves, but is also accompanied by sounds, colors, shapes and their unique atmosphere.

He can also manipulate their thoughts and send them visions at will.However, he maintains a confidentiality and privacy policy when it comes to reading/manipulating one’s thoughts, because he considers that to be a very intrusive and disrespectful act.

Irmo follows a strict “do no harm” policy; almost like the hippocratic oath (which is probably one of the reasons he married Este). So when he has to go to battle he does not carry any weapons; he is only equipped with a magical dreamcatcher-like net that when thrown against his enemies it puts them into a deep sleep, thus debilitating them. 

Very few are aware of it; but that net is one of Irmo’s only weaknesses; for one can capture him only by tangling him in it; in any other case he will be able to somehow escape. Namo is one of the very few who know this, and that is why when they ride to battle he always keeps an eye out for his brother, lest he finds himself in danger. 

Some sorts of dreams Irmo creates are meant for the Valar alone, because no mortal mind can bear them. Sometimes, even the Valar can barely handle them.

Even though many people -the Valar included- clearly do not enjoy those dreams; Irmo doesn’t mind, because he loves experimenting and pushing the limits of the mind.

Irmo finds creating nightmares more interesting than creating pleasant dreams, because he finds fear and objects of fear fascinating.Irmo can bend anyone to his will, using fears as a threat to obtain all he wants. Also, if he so wishes, he can drive anyone insane.

Creating dreams -and especially nightmares- is way more draining of a task than what it seems, and even Irmo needs to rest from time to time. Of course he has created dreams for himself; however when he is exhausted, he prefers to have a dreamless sleep.

Being more sensual than sexual does not prevent Irmo from seeing sexual intercourse as a therapeutic means to help others feel bette. If he thinks someone is going to be immensely benefitted by a session of tantric sex, he is going to provide it himself; or at least provide a vivid vision of it. He thinks nothing of it; merely a part of his work; and consequently, he does not allow himself to take any pleasure from it.

Irmo, being the master of desires, can make someone drowed by lust or petrified by fear with a mere gaze or touch. If he is feeling really playful, he would accompany those effects with visions or he’d whisper to their ear with his soft sultry voice, just to observe the effects it has on them.

Really few beings can actually grasp how difficult it is for Irmo to keep his powers under control and not accidentally probe one’s mind or evoke some unwanted emotion or desire by touching or even by looking at someone. The ones who can grasp that are the ones in whose presence Irmo accidentally put down his guard for even a fraction of a second because the effects were…. memorable.That also explains why the Eldar and the Edain often behave in odd, erratic ways. Their unconscious minds were formed in Irmo’s image, but since they are not Valar, they have much lower level of control over them.

The exclamation that is most frequently directed towards Irmo by the Children of Eru is “I didn’t realize how exhausted I was”, closely followed by “I didn’t realize how horny I was”, because his presence has those effects on them, even without him doing anything in particular that causes either.

Often, when he is too busy making his dream worlds, Irmo won’t be able to greet guests himself. Instead, he sends a flock of butterflies to them and turns the patterns onto their wings into eyes, to let them know he is aware they are there and that he can listen to their woes.

It is impossible to take a picture of Irmo that isn’t blurred or paradoxical.

IRMO’S HABITS

Irmo smokes some sort of hookah when he is lying on his favorite recliner; when he roams his gardens though, he always has an opium pipe with him. Thus, his breath (and entire being, really) has the sweet and exotic smell of incense, orchid essence, danish pipe tobacco and opium.

Irmo might seem quite sweet and pleasant, but he hides a really creepy and dark interior; and he is, in fact, one of the most unintentionally creepy Valar, along with his brother.

Contrary to common belief; Irmo is almost never “horny”; he is just quite sensual by nature. What might be considered as “leading people on” for Irmo is only “expressing affection”. In the kind of rare situations where he IS horny though, his skin emits a very pleasant scent (like a pheromone), he gets feverish warm and his eyes glisten more than usual. Also, when that happens, he usually avoids the object of his desires; but when it finally comes down to it, with a single touch or a stare he can inspire great lust. Sleeping with Irmo not as therapy but as an act of love might be very rare; but the few who have can testify that is a transcendental experience, dream-like and unlike anything they experienced before. That is what one gets for bedding the master of desires.

Both Irmo and his maiar are what others would describe as narcoleptics; they fall into that deep sleep state at random moments and even during conversations or while they are walking.Basically they are asleep most of the time; which short intervals of wakefulness are all the more important to them, because that is when they have the opportunity to rest and socialize.

They might not seem like it, but they are in fact VERY HARD WORKING. What others perceive as a period of inactivity, is actually their main reality; they LIVE into the dream world and build it like the Valar built Arda.

He LOVES sweets. Like, REALLY loves sweets. He barely eats anything that is not sweet. Marshmallows, candy floss, grapes, plums, figs; anything goes. Even straigt-up sugar cubes and sugar water. He is the type of person who adds a ton of milk and sugar in their tea; HOWEVER he drinks coffee black as the Void, because the bitter taste does not annoy him. But give him something that tastes even slightly sour or salty, and you are bound to make him cry. 

Irmo is very fond of all kinds of art. Artists, writers and composers often turn to Irmo in their prayers to grant them with inspiration to create. 

Irmo has a very strange sense of humor. He finds the most random or morbid things to be amusing

Irmo prefers walking around naked and covered only by his wings. He has gone through countless fights with Este because of that habit, but still he does not understand why she insists that he puts on some clothes when around people. 

Irmo’s favorite color is purple; he loves all of its shades, from lavender to royal purple and he feels calmer when he is around purple objects in general. His least favorite color is bright yellow, because it stresses him out with its intensity. 

Given that he is a being who sleeps 90% of the time, it is astonishing how easily he can get stressed; as if he is not used to normal life paces. He frets and panics over minor issues, most people would have no trouble dealing with; but when it comes to more complex issues things that would confuse others, he is the calmest person to be around. 

Since there is dim lighting at all times in the gardens of Lorien, it is safe to assume that Irmo hates hAteS HATES bright light and loud noises, because -guess what- they stress him out. It is also safe to say that he is also not very fond of complete darkness (he wouldn’t admit it, but it scares him; so if he suddenly finds himself in a complete dark space he is definitly going to clutch on anything close to him, be it a pillow, a plushie or another person) and closed spaces. 

Irmo has absolutely no idea what all the fuss about the Silmarills is about or why everyone is obsessed with shiny objects, because he cannot stand shiny/bright things himself.

Irmo has at least 10 butterflies or moths on his person at all times. They just love him - probably because they see his white hair and iridescent fae wings and they think of him as a mother figure.

Irmo doesn’t like wearing “normal” clothing cause his wings feel so stifled underneath the fabric; so he prefers having his whole back exposed, and his clothes being tied with ribbons around his waist and shoulders so that his wings sprout and move freely. Bonus: he is not aware how sexy his clothes are considered to be -or how sexy he is for that matter-.

Irmo is an absulute fan of stained glass structures. All the buildings in Lorien’s gardens, including Irmo’s and Este’s private quarters are made exclusively out of stained glass. 

He also loves the sound of the Glass Harp (or Glass Harmonica). For those who do not know the particular instrument, it was a predecessor of the piano and his sound is in equal parts dream-like and eerie. 

Irmo’s favorite sea creatures are jellyfish. Somewhere in the gardens Irmo has a huge tank filled with jellyfish. He spends many hours just watching them, because he finds their movements so graceful and relaxing. Their swimming around remind him of the dance of fëar when leaving their mortal hröar. 

One of the things very few know about Irmo, is how deep his insecurities and self hatred go. That is a part of him that he prefers keeping buried deep inside him, but it exists nonetheless. For that reason, being ravished in a punishing, hurtful way is one of the desires he is too afraid to admit to even himself, although it makes sense since there is that one voice deep inside his mind that tells him that he deserves all the pain he would get. Knowing oneself so intimately can be a curse, you see; and even though he is the master of dreams and desires, being loved by someone for whom he really has feelings is such an incomprehensible concept for him. The only situation he would let himself reveal that desire would be if he was extremely sad and upset, and the object of his affections tried to comfort him. Well, yes; in the realms of the subconscious sanity and insanity are both relative.

IRMO AND THE FEANTURI HEADCANONS

Let’s begin with canon: Namo’s surname is Vefantur/Vefantor or Nurofeantur, which means by word “the one who reveals all alike” (hence, the one who reveals the common fate, the nihilist). His name “Namo” means “he who judges”.Irmo’s surname is Olfantor/Olfantur or Olofeantur, which means by word “the one who reveals the hidden path” or “the one who reveals the nightly path” (hence, the one who reveals the unconscious truth). His name “Irmo” means “he who desires”. 

I like to think that the Feanturi have their own language that they use to speak to each other (this includes Nienna and Estë). None of the other valar can understand it no matter how hard that they try to study and learn it.

All three siblings have these strange eyes like deep dark pools of liquid void. No one, not even the Valar, can make direct eye contact with them for long without feeling like they are being consumed.

When the Feanturi all show up to a feast, everyone stops and goes silent. It is a rarity to actually have all together in one place as well. Part of this reaction is because they are associated with bad things happening to people.

Both Namo and Irmo are TERRIBLE at talking to people because nothing they say ever makes sense. Námo always gives extremely ominous statements out of nowhere and gives NO EXPLANATION as to what they mean. Is he foretelling your doom? Is he just joking? NO ONE KNOWS; which is why he makes everything awkward.- Irmó on the other hand, seems like he’s talking in riddles. He makes really weird analogies and metaphors that are impossible to understand and in general he works with dream logic, so nothing he says makes sense unless one sleeps on it.

There are no mentions of what weapons Namo and Irmo used in battle (although it is CANON that they rode on a carriage dragged by a black and a dappled grey horse), but for some reason I think they both worked together, Irmo throwing a kind of a magical net that puts all those captured by it to sleep and Namo collecting their fëar with a scythe.

Both Irmo and Namo are into taxidermy, after Nienna suggested that they should find a hobby. Namo is more into preserving skeletons, making skeleton props and decorating the Halls with them. Also, he pretty soon discovered that carving intricate decorative patterns on random skulls is oddly relaxing.

…as for Irmo, he is into diaphonizing different specimens and enclosing them into crystals. Many of his creations can be seen throughout the gardens of Lorien; adding to the eerie and dream-like atmosphere.

Nienna too, didn’t take long to join her brothers’ taxidermy obsession, and she likes making bone jewellery in her free time.

Irmo really enjoys sending wet dreams to Namo of all the acts they are forbidden and unable to perform together. And Namo is… um… highly impressed of Irmo’s creativity in that particular aspect of desires. 

Irmo’s and Namo’s favorite game is 20 questions, but with a twist: Namo presents some random information about an elf’s death and Irmo has to make out the whole scenario of how and why they died from scratch.

Noone should ever dare to insult Silmo in front of Irmo. He is his favorite Maia. He even gave Namo the cold shoulder for a little while after Namo said some rude things about Silmo. Interestingly enough, Silmo did find some satisfaction in that. He believed that Namo deserved it. 

IRMO’S MAIAR HEADCANONS

Irmo’s maiar look like creepy haunted dolls and are most of the time asleep in a specially formed area in the gardens, which looks like a very odd cemetery, with the maiar in a near comatose deep sleep in glass ornate cases

Irmo makes sure that his maiar are comfortable while sleeping (working, really, since their field is the dream world), adjusting their pillows and covering them with blankets -and sometimes giving them something to hug (especially to those who work on the nightmare section of dreams)

Just like his Master, Silmo has a pair of fae wings; only his are white monarch butterfly type , because he has to fly long distances. A soothing,warm, intense brightness surrounds him, coming from inside him. That brightness is unlike Irmo’s colder and more mysterious one, and that is why his presence is more comforting. Irmo himself will seek out his company when he is sad, and will sleep next to him until he feels better.

GARDENS OF LORIEN HEADCANONS

The most noteworthy thing about the Garens is that they are neither fixed nor stable in their nature; instead they are ever-changing and fluid; flunctuating between impossible landscapes and labyrinths that constantly move around, with the exception of a few landmarks that stay fixed.

The Lake of Thoughts at the Gardens of Lorien: As everything at the Gardens, this lake corresponds with Irmo’s state of mind; its colors altering  along with it. Its depth is unknown, and noone dares to find out, for if someone dives too deep, the waters never let them go and they swallow them to their infinite depths. Only Irmo can dive in fearlessly, and he likes to remain there, hidden in the deep waters for days on end, when he wants his sleep to be uninterrupted and creates the most intricate of dreams.

This one is actually from Tolkien’s Lost Works: “Lorien too dwelt far away, and his hall was great and dimly lit and had wide gardens. The place of his dwelling he called Murmuran, which Aule made of mists gathered beyond Arvalin upon the Shadowy Seas. ‘Twas set in the South by the feet of the Mountains of Valinor upon the confines of the realm,but its gardens wandered marvellously about, winding nigh to the feet of Silpion whose shining lit them strangely. They were full of labyrinths and mazes, for Palurien had given Lorien great wealth of yew trees and cedars, and of pines that exuded drowsy odours in the dusk; and these hung over deep pools. Glowworms crept about their borders and Varda had set stars within their depths for the pleasure of Lorien, but his sprites sang wonderfully in these gardens and the scent of nightflowers and the songs of sleepy nightingales filled them with great loveliness. There too grew the poppies glowing redly in the dusk, and those the Gods called fumellar the flowers of sleep — and Lorien used them much in his enchantments. Amidmost of those pleasances was set within a ring of shadowy cypress towering high that deep vat Silindrin. There it lay in a bed of pearls, and its surface unbroken was shot with silver flickerings, and the shadows of the trees lay on it, and the Mountains of Valinor could see their faces mirrored there. Lorien gazing upon it saw many visions of mystery pass across its face, and that he suffered never to be stirred from its sleep save when Silmo came noiselessly with a silver urn to draw a draught of its shimmering cools, and fared softly thence to water the roots of Silpion ere the tree of gold grew hot.”

It is canon that the gardens of Lorien are dimly lit at all times; with no evidence what the nature of the illumination is -excluding the stars Varda sent. Given the whole aesthetics of the gardens though, I highly suspect that they are lit with a mixture of a constant aurora borealis of a blue-ish/purple color and thousands of fireflies hovering above the garden.

In the gardens of Lorien there is one forest made entirely out of amethyst and quarz.

Yavanna got the inspiration to create the Two Trees by observing the native species of bioilluminescent plants and flowers that are only to be found there. Yavanna had zero involvement in the creation of the gardens; all the species that inhabit there are being created by Irmo alone; that is why many of them are utterly bizzare and uncanny, as if they stepped out of a fantasy painting.

Irmo has the ability to bring creatures and objects of his imagination into existance; however that ability can be applied only within the gardens of lorien

Speaking of which; i am persuaded that somewhere in those gardens floating mountains and islands like these exist, just because they overturn the laws of physics

Most of the species that live in the gardens of Lorien are not to be found anywhere else in Arda. One of the most famous ones is the fairy dragon. These are so few of them, and they are quite as temperamental and reclusive as their master, so spotting one in the gardens is said to bring luck. They are very small in size; the biggest of them barely reaching the size of a cat, their scales are colorful and as soft as flowerpetals, and once they reach adulthood, their wings take the shape and colors of butterfly wings, hence their name. Although having adopted the good willed and peaceful nature of their master; they are proud and regal creatures that stand out as the kings of the gardens’ ecosystem, and Irmo’s favorite pets. Irmo himself created them, after he was inspired by Melkor; and hurting one of his favorite pets is considered a great insult. It is pretty hard to go after them, however, because they rarely walk too far away from their master, and Irmo is known to carry at least two of them on his person at all times. When they want attention they make small needy squeals, and when they petted they trill and purr. If they are not handled with care, though, one should be careful of their anger, because their bite is poisonous. Thankfully, they usually prefer to fly away with a huff and a smack with their tail.

The temperature of the Gardens at night is somewhat chilly, so that the sleepers can snuggle with their blankets.

When Irmo is crying or he is sad, it is raining at the gardens. 

In the rare occassions Irmo gets REALLY angry, the sky turns into a blood red color; the gardens are being buried by a forest of poisonous thorns and the water at the lorien springs and fountains starts boiling. 

The color of the sky in Lorien’s gardens, as well as the color of the water in the fountains, springs and lakes is controlled by Irmo himself, reflecting his emotional state and mindset. Irmo adores swimming in the lakes and springs of the gardens; especially laying underwater for hours on end while brewing dreams

The most usual material for clothing at the Gardens is silk; with so many moths around. However, since killing the sacred insects of Irmo in order to produce silk is not allowed, there is a whole new method of making the fabric. Instead of boiling the silkworms’ cocoons to kill them off, they wait for the silkworms to metamorphose into moths and then they collect the empty coccoons and process them to liquify the silk and then make it into thread anew. Moreover, unlike regular silk which only comes in white, various species of moths in the gardens produce colored and/or phosphorescent silk.