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vienssunshine · 3 months

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GUAAA you’re the best maki writer on this app istg /&;&;@/@/@-“&/ could you please write smth nsfw where the fem reader like gets jealous of yuuta cause she thinks something is going on between them?

She likes a boy but I'm not a boy

pairing: Maki Zenin x fem!reader sfw: love confession word count: 1.5k author's note: thanks for the ask! not smut but def jealousy! enjoy! description: it's hard to find out maki and yuta have a thing, maybe a conversation with her could clear some things up

“Last lap!” Yuji calls out, his breath labored despite being far ahead of anyone else circling the track. It’s been twenty minutes of this drill—sprinting until you can’t feel your legs anymore—and with the sun beating down on you, it’s utterly grueling.

You were psyched to have the earlier training sessions this week along with Nobara, Panda, and Yuji, because, though getting up before sunrise is a challenge in itself, it tends to be cooler in the morning. With summer approaching quickly, having the afternoon sessions like Maki, Yuta, Inumaki, and Megumi do is a near death sentence.

However, this morning is uncharacteristically hot. The sun has only been up for the past hour, but its rays are blinding and oppressive. With no shade offered by Jujutsu High’s training facilities, all one can do is suffer until practice is over.

You cross the line and stumble off the field, making your way to the bleachers to lean back on the metal that’s too warm to cool your overheating body.

“I thought that would never end,” Yuji sighs, draping the shirt he had taken off over his forehead and pouring water onto it.

You reach for your water bottle, taking in the cool liquid in clumsy swallows before saying, “I don’t think I’ll be able to get back up.”

“Same here,” Nobara says, lying like a starfish on the grass in front of you. She glances at her watch and groans, “Only thirteen more minutes ‘til we go again.”

Panda sits up, somehow full of energy—you suspect he’s been using gorilla mode to make the drill easier—and says, “That should be enough for some of my favorite kind of break-time talk!”

Yuuji pulls his t-shirt off of his face, “Is it–”

“Sexy talk!” Panda exclaims.

“Gross,” Nobara says, throwing her empty water bottle at him.

“Not gross,” Panda counters, deflecting the bottle. “A necessary bonding experience for those on a team. Haven’t you ever heard of locker room talk?”

“I think that’s different,” you say.

“Yeah,” Nobara agrees, glowering.

“I’ll start,” Panda says, “Yuji, who do you think would make the best couple in Jujutsu High?”

Yuji crosses his legs and strokes his chin. “Umm…I don’t know…”

Nobara eyes him. “Spit it out.”

“Thought you didn’t like this kind of talk?” you say.

Nobara folds her arms, “Doesn’t mean he should take forever to answer.”

“Come on, Yuji!” Panda says, clapping his paws together.

Yuji sits back on his hands, “Maybe…Yuta and Maki?”

You furrow your brow. That’s a strange pairing.

“Great choice!” Panda says, looking smug, “I would agree.”

“What? Totally wrong!” Nobara objects, offended by the idea, “Maki isn’t interested in anyone, she doesn’t have time to be in a relationship.”

This isn’t making any sense. You sit up so you can face them. “Are you guys being serious?”

“Uh, yeah,” Yuji says, puzzled, “I thought they were kind of a thing?”

“Definitely,” Panda says, “I’ve always known.”

You pull your legs into your chest and rest your chin on your knee. This is not what you expected, or understood to be what was going on.

You’ve known Maki for a while, and she’s always been very friendly to you, well, as friendly as Maki can be. But still, she pays you extra attention, noticing the little differences in your appearance—like if you changed your hair or wore a new outfit—and following it up with a compliment that feels strangely intimate. She tends to touch you a lot as well, opting to brush by you rather than go around, or have her hand graze your forearm as she laughs at one of your not-funny jokes. So you’ve been thinking that maybe, after all this time, she might see you how you see her. But this conversation is making you wonder if it’s all in your head.

“Well, I guess if it had to be someone,” Nobara concedes.

“Just admit it, they’re made for each other,” Panda says dreamily.

You huff. Yuta and Maki are definitely close, but made for each other? What makes him so great? Just because he’s a special grade doesn’t mean he’s equipped to handle someone like Maki—he always looks like he’s two seconds away from crying. If what they’re saying is true, if they’re actually together…you’re not sure what you’ll do, but just thinking about it is heating your blood.

The conversation devolves into discussing what everyone’s type is, but you tune it out, instead searching your memory for the signs of Yuta and Maki’s special connection. You're not sure how you could've missed it if it was so obvious to everyone else.

The rest of training is easier now that you’re pissed off. Your form is sloppier as you run around the track, feet hitting the ground in hard, careless pounds, but you’re going much faster than you were; there’s less of a gap between you and Yuji.

You’re still angry when you shower, change your clothes, put on shoes, and go to class for the rest of the day. It’s good that Yuta and Maki are in the afternoon sessions of training, you’re not sure you’d be able to stay composed with how you’re feeling right now.

The day cools as the sun goes down and, after trying and failing to talk your feelings out to one of your stuffed animals, you resort to finding a late night snack in hopes of soothing your inner turmoil.

Only, when you get to the communal kitchen, there’s a light on, and under it, sitting at the table, is Maki watching something on her phone.

She looks up when you walk in. “Hey,” she says, an interesting smirk on her face.

“Hey,” you respond, passing by and heading to the cabinet to grab some chips. You debate going back to your room—you’re not sure if hanging out with her tonight is a good idea—but the urge to stay wins, so you sit down in the chair next to her and open the bag.

Maki puts her phone down and rests her elbows on the table, clasping her fingers together and tilting her head as she says, “I heard you were talking about me today.”

Looking straight ahead, you say, “Did you?”, and put a chip in your mouth and chew. “Maybe you should tell Yuta about it.”

There’s that attitude you were worried about slipping out. You don’t want to give her a hard time, you’re just frustrated, because Yuta? Over you? Really? But then she laughs, and despite everything, it’s immensely gratifying.

“Yeah, you guys were saying we’re a thing or something,” Maki says, expression calming into a soft yet devious smile.

She’s baiting you, though you don’t know why. Her golden gaze is as heavy and intense as the sun this morning as she searches your face for any reaction. It’s peculiar behavior if she likes someone else—unless you’re misinterpreting again.

You’re as casual as can be when you ask, “Aren’t you guys a thing?”

Maki responds matter-of-factually, “Yeah, we are.”

You cough, nearly choking on your chip. That confirms it, confirms everything you were worried about. Maki likes someone else. A boy. Your mind spins, trying to make sense of the situation. Panda and Yuji had a better read on the situation than you? You had just imagined the tension with Maki? The one thing you can conclude is that you were totally wrong.

Maki hands you her glass of water, “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you force out, taking a sip. “That’s great,” you say, “For you and Yuta.”

She laughs again. “Don’t ever become an actress.”

You break out into a stupid smile, “I’m serious.” Putting the chips down, you try to recover. Obviously this is terrible news, but you still have to be a good friend. “Really, that’s great. I’m happy for you.”

“Stop,” she says, waving her hand, “We aren’t really.”

“Uh…what?”

“We aren’t really a thing,” she says, her hand landing on your forearm like it always does. Only, this time, it stays there. “I just wanted to see how you’d react.”

She moves her thumb along your skin, and though her strokes are gentle, the sensation is electric. No doubt she’s noticed how your arm has lit up in goosebumps.

“Why?” you ask, your voice quieter than it was, anticipatory. You don't want to be wrong again.

She speaks slowly, her gaze holding steady. “Because, I don’t want to be a thing with Yuta”—her fingers give your arm a squeeze—“I want something with you.”

It doesn’t register at first, the words not sinking in, rather just sitting there, utterly impactful. Her amber eyes watch yours as you tell it to yourself again: Maki doesn’t want Yuta, she wants you.

Your friend, who for months you’ve longed for, dreamed of, desired, Maki, she likes you back.

There’s no room for air in your body, not with the surge of excitement pushing up through your chest. Everyone else—Panda, Yuji, Nobara—they didn't know what they were talking about. Maki wants you.

Your hand lands on hers without consulting your head first. Then you’re leaning forward, leaning closer to her, and you echo the sentiment, whispering you’ve much you’ve wanted this. She smiles before your lips meet; the kiss was mutually long-awaited.

And so, in the dimly lit kitchen, a secret romance was born. Would the others get it right this time?

#maki zenin x you #maki zenin x reader #maki zenin #maki zenin fluff #zenin maki #maki x you #maki x reader #maki

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germiyahu · 4 months

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Not too thrilled that my other post is getting so many notes when I'm not satisfied with it for a multitude of reasons. Let's have a do-over, hopefully much more succinct and to the original point.

When Palestinians, actually basically all Arabs, or all Muslims, say "Jerusalem is holy to us it is the 3rd holiest city in our religion." The White Western Leftist (WWL) will say "That's so valid your religion is so interesting and beautiful Hamas did nothing wrong I love the Houthis!"

But if a Jew ever rebuts "Jerusalem is holy to us as well, it's our holiest city, basically the only one we have," the WWL will probably roll their eyes, scoff, probably say something like "Okay but like why are you still using your outdated Zionist death cult to justify colonialism? You really think the Bible justifies killing millions of Palestinians?" and start going on and on about how Judaism invented everything bad about Christianity.

My hypothesis: These people are not allies to Muslims (Palestinians). They are condescending to them. They are throwing them a bone because they feel bad about how the Muslim world has been treated, well ever since Sykes-Picot, but especially post 9/11, the Patriot Act, The War on Terror, Iraq, Afghanistan, the Drone War, Libya, Nato, The Arab Spring, the list goes on. They don't think Muslims are capable of building the kind of societies they want, not without their gracious help. They don't think Muslims should have the same ideals of democracy and human rights, because they don't expect that from the Brown People. They won't ever hold them to such a standard because "Ugh where do we get off lecturing them?" even though they would never think this of Jews.

These people are not equals to Jews, something something Sartre they think they are both superior and inferior (which makes them superior). They are not just trying to hold their fellow citizens of the world to account. They are trying to put Jews in their place. They are projecting their religious trauma onto Jews because they do not understand Judaism. They see Judaism as Power. They are trying to delegitimize Judaism as a religion (and it is a religion, including the parts of religions that give atheists the "ick," including a lot of mysticism). They are trying to caterwaul about Jews being responsible for the world's ills and that they expect Jewish People to be better than this. To evolve beyond religion and community and affiliation and identity. They want Jewish to be nothing more than a box ticked off on a census. A neat little factoid about yourself, like how your neighbor Cheryl has Norwegian ancestry.

My only conclusion is that these people find Jews and Judaism repulsive, and they find Muslims and Islam primitive. Unlike their parents' generation, they appreciate the primitive. It is noble savagery to them. Unlike their parents' generation, the comparatively cosmopolitan modern secular Western sheen of Jewry (applied to Jews against their will) is not something that we almost lost from the world, but an annoying holdover of what we almost successfully purged from the world.

Because remember, while they hate their parents and everything they stand for, they still deep down want Daddy's approval. So it makes perfect sense why the psyche would displace anger and trauma and all that caused by Christianity, and look elsewhere to place blame. It falls at the feet of Jews and Judaism. Because my culture could never, there has to be a missing puzzle piece that could explain- oh there it is. The Jews did it. And wow look how easily this can slot in with every other antisemitism conspiracy theory.

The audacity to think I could make a shorter version of that post 😂 But basically it's this: The WWL, the Zoomer Left, the Tankies, whatever name you call them... they think that they can "save" Muslims by offering up Jews, and the terrorist fascist fundamentalists like Hamas, Hezbollah, the Houthis, they're on board. They're all in. Normal ass every day Muslims/Palestinians? They just want peace, they just want rights, they just want sovereignty. The WWL is not interested in that perspective.

They have not once in their lives thought of what they could possibly do in terms of reparations. No no, tweeting and marching for a weekend are quite enough. They have not once in their lives turned inward and self reflected on the ways they benefit from and their own role in these systems of supremacy, that have harmed Muslims around the world. Jewish blood is more than enough to pay for operation Iraqi Freedom. Jewish lives are a fetching price to assuage the Westerner's guilt. You know since they have so much trouble turning inward and reflecting on their own contribution to Islamophobia, it might do them good to practice a little תשובה... but I don't know 😌

#jumblr #israel #palestine #antisemitism #leftist antisemitism #leftist islamophobia

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whorety-k · 13 days

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Ebony Coasts [Part 1]

Happy Mermay everybody!! I'm deciding to come out of the woodworks and actually write something because of the brain worms all of my favorite writers are giving me. I decided on some Corvus Corax love today because I feel like he's often part of the forgotten Primarchs in fanfiction (and I'm also a Raven Guard girlie <3).

Pairing: Merfolk!Corvus Corax x fem!Reader (second person POV)

Song recommendation: The Night Does Not Belong To God - Sleep Token

"And you remember everything / Only till the sun recedes once again / And the night comes down like heaven."

Warnings: Ocean mentions / potential thalassophobia

Word Count: 2.2k

[Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5]

The full moon above hung in the sky like a beacon, illuminating the ebb and flow of the tides. Stars were all but drowned out by its glow, glimmers of the crashing waves reflecting what little light they put out. As it so often did this time of night, the chill settled deep into your bones. Still you were at ease.

You were never quite sure what called you out to the ocean so late in the night, and for whatever reason 'The waves are calming,' wasn't enough for your friends and coworkers to get off of your back. It had become a habit to gaze at the stars as a stress-reliever after your recent move closer to the coast. The two-hour work commute had taken its toll on your psyche, and you have not regretted your choice to find an apartment closer to your workplace.

What you now lacked in commute stress, you more than made up for stressing over your newest case. Coastline conservation was your forte; you were the one often called in to solve complex cases, and yet this one seemed to leave you puzzled each time. From kids tearing up the natural flora or an illegal succulent harvesting operation, you had been able to solve every situation that had been thrown your way before, but this situation didn't match any of the patterns you had trained yourself to look for.

It stumped you.

Caves were dug practically overnight into the cliffside, then left completely uninhabited by the time you found them. No one man could have accomplished such a feat without at least a noise complaint from the houses on the cliff above.

Random caches of sea glass, precious stones, jewelry, and other shiny objects were tucked away within pits in the caverns as if hidden for later. Interestingly enough, these caches seemed to grow in size if they were left untouched. The last hoard you had taken as evidence resulted in that particular cave being completely abandoned overnight, often filled in.

And most puzzling: there were no other actual signs of anyone ever having tread there. No tools, no trash, no foot prints. Nothing but the little stores of trinkets. It was infuriating. Whatever punks had been tearing up the coastline were masters at their craft.

Tonight, you were determined to catch the bastards that had been giving you stress once and for all. You even had the local authorities on speed dial (despite your distrust in them properly handling the situation) in case anyone decided to get violent.

A gust of frigid wind draws you from your thoughts. The night isn't getting any younger, and you need to get down to the cave. You hug your windbreaker jacket closer to your body as you wander back down the metal dock, boots clunking loudly across the water. The crackle of gravelly sand crunching replaces the heavy thumps as you descend onto the illuminated beachfront.

You almost lose track of time as you travel along the high tides. You've walked this particular beach head a hundred times at nearly all times of day, and by now it's all beginning to blur together. You force yourself to focus on the present this time, fiddling with the moonstone pendant around your neck. You had taken it from the last cave for study, but when it solved absolutely nothing, you decided to keep it as a token to remember what you were working towards. ‘A stone of new beginnings’, they say. Maybe it'll be the beginning of actually solving this damned case.

A cavity in the cliff face finally comes into view. From this distance, the high tide creates a shallow cove that appears to fill part of the cavern. There aren't any tracks other than your own as you approach. Whoever created the small structure must not have returned to it just yet.

A flicker of white catches your eye.

You come to a dead stop.

It barely registers that you're just at the maw of the cavern when you remember how to breathe. You quietly chastise yourself with an annoyed huff. Doing this job for as long as you have, you really should be more used to the way the reflections on the water’s surface play tricks on you, especially when at nightfall. With a shake of your head, you take a step into the thin layer of salty water covering the floor of the cavern. You silently thank the waders you wear for keeping your feet dry.

The moonlight doesn't reach farther than a few meters in the darkness of the space, you note as you tread deeper into its embrace. Without the wind chill, it is far warmer than the marine layer settling just outside. Your hand fishes into an inner jacket pocket to retrieve your flashlight–

Splash!

…Of course you'd drop it. Right now, of all times. Professional.

You kneel down into the sparkling abyss and feel around for the waterproof torch, letting out a sigh of relief when its plastic casing finds your fingers. You grasp the pesky light and stand back up to onyx orbs peering directly into yours.

You blink. It blinks.

A flurry of movement torrents the cave as rapid splashing fills the air. In your panic, you slip on the wet stones and fall back into the water as the jet-and-alabaster creature looms before you, eyes boring into your very core. This thing is huge. Its skin gleams unnaturally white, rippling with lithe muscles as it leans down over you, trapping you between its muscular arms. You desperately look up into its (his?) stony face as you try to sprawl backwards, searching for any purchase in the puddle currently soaking your backside. It stops you with a large clawed hand on your chest, pinning you down firmly to the flooded floor. The creature (man?) is delicate enough not to slice you open.

“Stop.”

You freeze. He stills. Did he just speak–?

“Your efforts are fruitless. Cease this before you harm yourself.” The deep voice that comes from the man is rough, as if it is not often used. “Please,” it adds, quieter.

You stare up at the man like cornered prey, but you heed his words and stop your fight. The hand on your chest briefly trails to your neck, claw catching on something before shifting to cradle your back. He lifts your upper half until you are sitting upright once again, assuring you'll hold the position before he retrieves his hand.

The moon and proximity allow you to finally get a semi-decent look at the man before you. He must be at least three meters tall, even leaning over slightly. Long black hair frames a strong, admittedly handsome face. His blunt, wispy bangs just barely hide black eyebrows knit with concern and amusement. Webbed ear-fins hide amongst his ebony hair in the dark, a gradient of charcoal grey at their edges. Your eyes respectfully shy away from his athletic chest to the gills tucked along his ribcage. When he finally moves back enough for you to fully sit upright, you notice the dorsal fin that trails down his entire back, leading into a tail that looks as if its melting into the water below. His fins drape over him like the softest silks, sharing that charcoal gradient from what you can see in the dark.

Your eyes widen at the sight, and the giant seems to catch on.

“Why do you continue to return here, little human?” he inquires.

You look back up at his face to once again see that perfectly neutral expression. It frightens you to know that he knows you've been here before, when you had no idea he even existed until just now. Finding your voice takes an embarrassingly long time. “...I…”, you start, voice laced with thinly veiled awe, “...work in coastal habitat conservation. I've been trying to figure out who was vandalizing protected areas on this beach head.”

The man’s head cocks to the side curiously, the only indication that he had heard you. It's his turn to observe you now– at least, you think that's what he's doing from the subtle shifts of the muscles surrounding his eyes. The fully black scleras do not make his gaze clear in the low light, but you swear you can see how his expression seems to fall.

“I am no vandal. I am merely an inhabitant, and I do not appreciate such accusations,” he growls.

Your words get lost in your throat as you straighten up and move to apologize, instinct kicking into to reassure the creature you've just met that you didn't mean to imply that he was a vandal. If anything, in hindsight, you're the asshole raiding his home.

You're cut off when he raises a hand to silence you, softly shaking his head. He seems disappointed, but the wave passes him by. Firmly, he presses, “I intend to stay here, and I would hope that you will be of no trouble for me to do just that.” You don't miss how he clasps his clawed hands together before him.

You quickly nod your head, shifting to stand back up. The chill of the sea water soaking through your clothes down into your waders is starting to become too much. Your body begins to tremble. With an unsteady voice, you croak out, “Nope! No problem here! Technically, it's my job to protect your habitat, so…” You voice drifts off as you realize you're either going to have to:

A. Convince the world that mermaids exist, or,

B. Lie on your report.

…And telling the world about merfolk sounds like a lot more paperwork than you're willing to do in this lifetime. You can't imagine what horrors bureaucracy and media would do to this (so far) gentle giant. If he exists, there's certainly more of his kind and you are not about to accidentally start an illegal merfolk poaching trade.

A quiet huff leaves the pale merman, and you focus back up on him. It takes a moment for you to realize he's laughing at your crisis. You fold your arms, body still shuddering from the chill. “Your secret is safe with me,” you declare, confidently standing up straight.

The merfolk nods in response, clearly amused by the whole situation despite the grim countenance that colors him. A silent staring contest commences between the two of you, gentle sounds of crashing waves filling the air from outside of the cavern. The scattered moonlight causes his scales to glitter like obsidian. You get the feeling that you're going to be watched from the shadows to assure you keep your promise, and you're not sure how to feel about it.

His soft voice breaks the silence, notably warmer. “You will be returning here again regardless.”

It's not a question; it's a statement, and you reckon it's not an incorrect one. You defend yourself, “It's not every day that I discover something out of my childhood fantasies is real and causing me hassles with my job.”

Your comment earns you another soft huff of a laugh. It's the best you'll get out of him, you assume. “It is not every day that a human raids my den and steals my belongings,” he chides.

Sputtering at his accusation, you avert your gaze and draw your lips into a tight line. The heat in your cheeks could burn a hole through steel. “I didn't know! I... can't exactly get those back for you until they're cleared out of evidence, but I will try.”

The answer seems to charm and please him. “That would be pleasant.”

Another bout of silence fills the cavern as you feel yourself being studied. Awkwardly, you tell the merfolk your name, extending an arm out for a handshake.

The man stares at it blankly, blinking once before he places his hand on top of yours. It's not correct, but at least he has the spirit. Now that you're not in a panic, you notice just how cold his hand is on yours. “You may call me Corvus Corax,” he says, withdrawing, “Is it normal for your kind to shake as you do?”

You cross your arms over your chest, rubbing your hands over the wet jacket covering your upper arms. “Not particularly. I'm wet and it's freezing,” you jest, giving Corvus a smile.

The words have little weight on Corvus Corax. Cold and wet are his normal. If hypothermia doesn't take you, embarrassment and culture shock certainly will. You look down at your clammy hands.

“I should get home before I freeze to death,” you state bluntly, wincing as a breeze from the mouth of the cave causes the wet windbreaker to stick to your back.

Corvus nods, simply staring. You aren't sure what you're expecting when you give him a wave, but the sheer amount of nothing he seems to give only serves to intrigue you further. You can feel his eyes on you as you turn to exit the cave, mentally preparing yourself to falsify a report about a group of ne’er-do-wells digging into the cliff face for an unknown reason and how they narrowly evaded identification… however unbelievable it is. You step out of the cave in a distracted daze, still convincing yourself of everything as your boots crack on the gravel once more.

You know you'll be returning. Corvus knows you'll be returning. Gingerly, with trembling hands, you reach up to fiddle with your pendant once more to ground yourself when you have a jarring realization.

That bastard took your necklace.

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[Part 2]

#warhammer 40k #warhammer 40000 #warhammer 30k #corvus corax #primarch #primarch x reader #corvus corax x reader #warhammer fanfic #mermay #your honor i love him #raven lady writings

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jojo-schmo · 1 year

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what are your personal favorite headcanons for meta knight?

Boy, oh BOY am I glad you asked!! You have unleashed me!!

First of all, I am very much Team White-Eyed Meta!!! (And his pretty pink cheeks!!!!!) -slams my drawing from last year on the table as exhibit A-

I respect everyone on Team Yellow-Eyed Meta since that's what is technically canon. But I just think drawing white eyes is so fun and pretty to look at... My first Kirby game was Squeak Squad and I was so mesmerized by his pretty white eyes when they were revealed for that split second! I'd replay that boss fight a bunch as a kid just to see them.

So yeah, I have the power to be in denial about a few facts for my own amusement and that's one of them. Draw and consume the content that makes you happiest, friends!! :P

About his backstory and origins, I don't have any solid headcanons of my own since I really like seeing other people's takes on it! Being Dark Matter-born, made by Nightmare, blending anime and game lore together, etc. There's so much I enjoy! His mysterious past can be frustratingly open-ended but at least it's given a lot of people the opportunity to be super creative!

I do like to think he gets more enjoyment out of a good, honest battle than he likes to let on. I mean, it's what he's best at! He fights for fun! An entire arena was built for him in Waddle Dee Town!

...So speaking of fighting, I've been doing some thinking about his powers... Like a lot of thinking. This is what I really wanna talk about!!

He's got some good old-fashioned, hard-earned skill with a sword. Probably from years of training. But his more powerful attacks use a lot of wind and electricity. That's why I think Meta Knight has the power of Storms.

Some examples of his use of wind:

One of his signature moves is Mach Tornado, after all!

Now, the bat effect to his spin in RtDL Deluxe kinda puzzles me. It just looks cooler I guess. This is a dude who put his face on his airship so why not have tiny bat particles come from your signature moves? Could just be a natural evolution of his power growing stronger, teehee.

Anyway, here are some examples of his use of electricity: (This man has a LOT of electric effects in his attacks!)

So much electricity!! Zappo! Bzzzzt!

And as a bonus, when Meta unsheathes Galaxia in the anime it materializes from lightning. THAT IS DOPE AS HELL. I don't personally subscribe to much of the anime lore, but I eat this detail UP.

Next, I used to think Meta had telekinesis because of Star Allies. All that purple aura when he lifts the rocks seems like solid evidence.

But then he does the same move in Forgotten Land and he's actually lifting the rocks with wind!! And a lot of it!! So his mastery of wind is significant to me! Probably helps him fly better too! I think his use of wind could certainly give his opponents the impression that he has telekinesis and psych them out a bit!

Finally, I used to think his duplication move was because of the Jamba Heart in Star Allies but I realized he does this in the Kirby Mass Attack mini game (whose canonicity is probably up for debate, but hey.) I'm willing to hear someone else out for an explanation because I'm stumped! Lol :P

....So yeah!! TLDR I think he is a swordsman with the power of Storms!

I'm interested to see other people's takes on him, this is just what I've made up for myself, haha! Either way, I love Meta Knight and he is super cool!! Thanks for reading!!

#headcanon #meta knight #ask #Kirby series

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06sunnybunny06 · 2 months

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How he loves (Jun Lee)

Jun Lee's love is as traditional as he is. As the god of contracts, he has seen enough human relationships. It was also not without marriage contracts. Couples in love looked at each other with burning eyes and confessed their love almost every minute. But to feel it on your own skin, another conversation....

You are an adventurer from Mondstadt who came to stay in Li Yue. You were seduced by the traditional dishes, music, as well as the history of the region. One windy evening, when the leaves were falling in gold on the stone path. You sat down at a small table in the open air. The eyes of the people were directed towards the narrator, who, waving a fan, told the legend of the Lord of the Stone.

- May I join you? The other tables are occupied. - The man with brown hair smiled gently at you, asking for permission.

You gestured to the next chair-of course.

He nodded gratefully, taking a seat.- From your clothes, it can be said that you are not a local.

You nodded, yes. I'm from Mondstadt. It was interesting for me to look at the culture of other countries. To begin with, colleagues recommended visiting Li Yue.

- So you're a traveler?

- It's interesting to watch something new. In Mondstadt, legends are usually sung by bards in taverns or on the main square. But coming here, you might think that you found yourself in a completely different world.

- The culture of all regions has been different since the most ancient times, when the seven archons began to rule each his own people. But legends can sometimes be interpreted incorrectly, distorting its true meaning." he watched the narrator, sipping fragrant tea. - The true meaning of this story is not about the war, but about the salvation of the human race.

You looked at him, puzzled, then at the narrator. Was he listening all the time while you were chatting? - I'm sorry. Do you know how this legend ends?

He put his mug down on the table-Yes. Similar tales are repeated day after day. Many people may choose the wrong words or tilt the topic in a completely different direction. From which the whole meaning changes.

You listened to his version of the story with curiosity. He spoke the language well and looked aesthetically pleasing enough for a gentleman of local origin. He also liked your curiosity and endless questions. You could sit like this for the rest of your life, but time had its effect on people. It's time to go to bed. This gentleman introduced himself to you as Jun Lee. It turns out he was famous for his intelligence. Someone called it a walking library. Even the people of the older generation could not combine with his aesthetics and love of culture, as if the Lord of the Stone himself had blessed him.

The man did not leave you, offering to take a walk. It seemed to you that this acquaintance would remain within the limits of friendly conversations. And so it was, until the environment began to look at you as a couple. This was expected, given the close relationship between a man and a woman. You didn't give in to it because you weren't sure how he felt.

Over time, Jun Lee began to bring everything from flowers to small gifts to your meetings. He himself did not expect such gestures, but for him, as an archon who left his post and vowed to lead an ordinary human life, it should be the norm to start a relationship with a person.

This decision was very difficult. Immortality does not combine with an ordinary mortal soul, but if you think about it often, you can stay completely alone and go crazy. Right? Before it is swallowed up by Erosion, it is better to have time to enjoy your still stable life to the fullest. And so began the love story of a mortal girl with an immortal dragon.

His concept of love is traditional, which means there are no events ahead of their time. You still need to get to know his real self, and for this the human psyche must be ready. No one wants to wake up with a huge lizard in a small room when your loved one was lying there before. He should also trust you.

If your reaction to his true parentage is negative, then it will break his heart and he will leave you with a heavy burden. It seems that this is how it should be. That's fate....

But if the reaction remains positive, moreover, you will love him even more, then you will leave him no choice. He will melt in your arms.

Being in a relationship with the archon himself is scary, actually. This is a comparison of heaven and earth. Who would have thought that the Lord of the Stone himself would start dating an ordinary person? The concept of God for man is something powerful. Humans cannot understand their beings, just as the gods cannot understand humans. You asked yourself similar questions at first, but when Jun Lee was lying on your lap and almost purred from your stroking. All the questions immediately flew away on their own. Maybe gods and humans are not so different?

Kisses are mostly chaste. He usually likes to touch your forehead, temple, or hands with his lips. A real gentleman. You can't say anything, but this side of him is only shown in public. Indoors, it allows you to touch you more intimately. His kisses can be more sensual, longer. Until you finally suffocate from his love, he will not leave you.

His playful side and even possessive side don't show up often, but they are there. It's normal for a dragon to have treasures. His house is full of rare precious things and you are one of them. As strange as it may sound. - * All the jewels belong to me, my love*

When it comes to jealousy, which is also not a common occurrence. He trusts you, and trust is the foundation of any relationship. If it so happens that some impudent person claims your heart. Jun Lee calmly takes you aside, ignoring the outraged shouts. The main thing is your safety, and it is above all.

Speaking of security. You are a human being and your body is very fragile compared to it. So for your own safety, be kind enough not to stab yourself. If you're going on guild assignments, be prepared to feel someone's eyes on you. Xiao never sleeps....

What about intimacy? This is a level of trust that you must overcome together. In the past, Jun Lee would have been very liberated....he knows all about sex. If it used to be a common thing, now there is you. An innocent little flower that can be broken by carelessness. First, you have to be ready to accept it, and then everything will go by itself. He's trying to be careful.

His patience is a quality he prides himself on, so trust him. Well, if you want more. Well, you asked for it. His resilience is amazing. Therefore, while you're lying on the bed, you're exhausted. He will meow in your ear, offering to relax a little more.

You wondered when he often forgot his wallet. Why are there so many precious things in his house, in your gifts? Jun Lee only replied that the item was borrowed or a good friend helped him buy it. You mentally felt sorry for his friend, knowing how much your lover is absent-minded when it comes to money....He takes the best of everything, but he doesn't know how to bargain at all......

If his wisdom was worth the money, you would have been rich long ago...

Also, do not forget about his employment. Jun Lee is an exemplary citizen, and all citizens must work to survive. There are days when he is immersed in a routine. All this effort will be for the two of you. So that you can have a normal life. So you'll have to put up with being alone for a while.

There is one big BUT - time. You'll get older over the years, but he won't. Your mortality will win this battle by leaving a man at your grave. Jun Lee assures me that if necessary. He will stay with you forever, even after your death, his thoughts will return to you and he will not regret anything. Someday the time will come and he himself will be where all his colleagues and friends are now. You will wait for him and then you will definitely be together forever, even if not in this world....

#genshinimpact #headcanon #headcanonygenshin #genshinheadcanons #genshin_impact #Zhongli #zhongli #Genshin impact #zhongli x reader #zhongli genshin impact #genshin impact zhongli #genshin

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wonderpommey · 10 months

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Dude, I was gutted by the scripts when they came out, but now?

It would have been fun (and by fun I mean Jesse's tragic definition of fun) to see Roman and Tabitha try and fail to have normal patriarchal sex, Roman supposedly being on a high for managing it and instead of pursuing the possibility of a fully acceptable daddy-approved relationship, immediately running to Gerri to tell her that he was a real man now who could put it in and he didn't need to be banished to the bathroom anymore - if she even cares. efff-why-ai, looking at her "standing to attention, ready to go at it hard". The 2 levels of that scene were brilliant actually. And absolutely losing his mind when she doesn't respect his "potency", doesn't respect him on top. Doesn't actually believe he can do it the way his dad used to.

His dad didn't do all this out of emotion, he did it out of cold business calculations (apart from maybe possibly the last thing he did. getting Roman to kill the woman he loved- Roman knows that it's in his rehearsed speech in episode 9). Of course for Roman, PIV Logan fucking is hurting, destroying, taking women's agency away and he can't do that without hurting himself deeply. And of course he only manages the middle bit/the firing. No successful foreplay/completion anywhere. Even less pleasure in doing things because "maybe dad knew". What tragic phrasing. The inference being that Roman doesn't know. That he always gets it wrong, he has the wrong instincts, the wrong feelings, the wrong desires and even when he tries to be dad's guy at great cost to himself, it's not working.

There was also a strong connection between Living +, the perfect AC homes of fake life while the world burns and Roman entering his own Living+ facility of nightmarish daddy-approved normo life, having fake Logan whisper in his ear all day what his superego is shouting at him at this point that "he always gets it wrong". The normal outside vs an internal life in uproar and turmoil, heading towards destruction.

And 12 hours later, acting as if the Tabitha interlude never even happened, starting to stalk Gerri and Martyn, and does Martyn shower at the gym? and has anyone seen him naked? and how big is this fucking guy? Desperately trying to tell Gerri he'll go back to jerking off in cupboards, go back to his "hang-ups and act-outs", if that's what she wants. The double entendre of "she could've gotten him there" taking on an even more obvious dimension. Roman visibly dying inside when Gerri leaves and he tries to hurt Connor, who has the sense to listen to his woman, screaming at himself really that "nothing's gonna happen", and going on to shatter democracy because "nothing ever happens" and he never gets the steak that he wants. And Gerri offering him a "funeral freebie", but Roman not being to handle the fear and the lust. Needing to be punished for having all those emotions in the first place but also for not respecting those emotions, destroying his relationship with the love of his life, "the one person who was maybe closer to him than Logan was".

The way Logan was so deep inside his psyche this season, but Roman was absolutely bursting in there.

Thinking Logan wanted him to be able to put it in normo style, but Roman only caring about Gerri knowing that,

Thinking Logan wanted him to make hardball deals/fire people but Roman only doing those things out of pure anger, pain, ego.

Thinking that showing your emotions/scars to the people you love is a weakness when the only times Gerri aches for him are the times she sees him crumble "You're not your dad" and that's why she had chosen him.

Being made unable to accept the touch of love, the held out hand of wokeness - even though he'd die for those things to be real. The idea these things were real and obtainable and he fucked it - how unbearable as a concept

I'm left puzzled as to why they thought Ken or Shiv's stories were more compelling/important. I get they were the most realistic. Roman's was dramatised a lot, his dad telling him "be this", ordering Gerri's killing, the voicemail seconds before his death. But it makes it the most dramatic/tragic imo... And yes all these things were visible as things were but they could've made them even more so.

#succession hbo #romangerri #roman roy #gerri kellman

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the-badger-mole · 9 months

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I have been mulling over a Psych!AU for ATLA. I think it would be hilarious. I will probably not get around to writing it, but here's what I was thinking.

Katara in the Shawn Spencer role. She honed her skills with Pakku, her surly, not always supportive grandfather who came to live with her family when she was very young after her mother died. He saw her knack for puzzle solving and her preternaturally sharp memory. Katara has a strained relationship with him because of his deep rooted misogyny and his insistence that despite being a woman, Katara should follow his footsteps into law enforcement. It...is a weird dichotomy, and at the start of the story, it has been years since they spoke.

Sokka is her Gus. He's a tightly wound, neurotic overachiever who feels disappointed because after years of being the gifted kid, he ends up working as a pharma rep. He wanted to be an engineer or a bio-chemist, but it didn't work out (I haven't decided why just yet). He still pursues those interests in his own time, which makes him a valuable, if reluctant participant in his sister's schemes. He initially goes along with his sister's foray into psychic detecting in order to protect her, but eventually he gets just as into it as she is. Especially after he meets Suki.

Suki is our Juliette. She's a sharp junior detective who assists the sibling detective duo from time to time. She believes Katara's psychic abilities after a few times witnessing her solving cases. Well, she mostly believes it. She can't completely wrap her mind around it, but she also can't think of a rational, natural explanation for how Katara seems to know what she knows. As time goes on, she develops feelings for Sokka, the sarcastic, logical, goofy half of the detective duo. She often acts as a buffer between the siblings and her partner,

Zuko is the Carlton Lassiter of the story. He does not believe Katara's claims of psychic abilities, but like Suki, he hasn't come up with a rational explanation. Yet. Still, she gets results, he can't deny. Their relationship is rocky at first. Zuko was the best detective in the police department, until Katara started showing him up. He is a stickler for rules and procedure, and he hates how Katara and her brother just do whatever cockamamie thing pops into their head, and it works out. As they work together more, he feels like he's on the cusp of figuring her out, but he just finds himself more and more impressed with her. Eventually, they become friends, and after that, something else blossoms between them.

Toph is this story's Woody. She's a slightly unhinged ME with an attitude problem. She is probably not completely blind, but she's severely visually impaired, which makes people doubt her abilities. At first. But then they realize why she is the ME for the most prestigious police department in the area. She likes the way Katara and Sokka have shaken up the department, so she doesn't mind helping them out every so often. She knows exactly how Katara manages to solve these crimes, but she will take that secret to the grave, because she thinks it's hilarious.

Aang is McNabb, and if you've seen the show, you know I'm right.

Iroh is the chief Vic. He runs the department with efficiently and is the one who impressed the importance of the rules in his nephew, Detective Zuko. Unfortunately, he never could get the boy to be more open minded. Iroh has no trouble employing the services of a psychic detective, as long as she gets the job done. He also finds it amusing to watch his nephew trying very hard not to be in love with her.

Obviously, Pakku is the Henry. Hakoda is Hakoda. He's a good dad, but he left a lot of the work of raising his kids to his mother-in-law, Kanna and Pakku, her husband, while he worked to keep the entire household financially afloat. Now that his kids are grown and out of the house, and he works less, he is trying to keep them all connected. He's very proud of his kids, though he doesn't completely understand what exactly it is they're doing. Either that, or he occasionally fills the Gus role along with or instead of Sokka.

#atla #psych!au #sukka #zutara #this will probably never get written #it's one of those self-indulgent fics that stay on the bookshelf in my head #THE YEAR OF CONTENT!!!!

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stillfrownyclownlol · 6 months

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Screaming into the void rn lmao

I am a chronic shitty slasher movie addict, so a slasher au is always up my alley ...I'm just finally in a fandom where it makes sense (kinda) 🤡

Tw: ...people..die, cuz...it's a slasher movie

It's at a summer camp because I love summer camps, they're so nostalgic to me even tho I went to a really fancy one and not the dumpster camp Ash is a counselor at lmao

It's her first summer there, and she's working with the rest of the gang (Tay, Tyler, Ben, and Logan). She's a dance instructor hehe, her group of kids are planning a ballet recital for the end of camp party :) But she's pissed off cuz they don't have the funds for anything nice.

Then...for some reason the camps start getting donations from , which is a little weird, but hell, Ash doesn't get paid enough to ask her boss (idk maybe Mr. Thomas) about it. But at the same time, weird shit starts happening; the phones get destroyed, finding bugs in the food supplies, or weird puzzles/messages are left around camp. Ash thinks it's some asshole kid messing around for fun :< One day, all the kids go on a field trip with a diff instructor so Ash and her friends can finally relax!

Then yknow, shit hit the fan when they find Tyler's corpse impaled on the tree. Looks like somebody pushed him, but the owners of the camp cover it up and say it's a freak accident and he just fell :/

Cue the rest of the gang quickly getting picked off in increasingly brutal/bizarre ways (sprayed with chemicals, knives to the face, they even find Logan totally massacred in a bear cave), until...it's just Ash.

Obviously seeing her friends die horribly in the span of like 2 days has done some serious damage to her psyche 💀 She's huddling in a cabin tryna call the police, but every time she tries the phone it's some creep saying how much he likes her breathing. Decides to suck it up and try to escape... *sigh* I'd love to draw a chase scene. Aiden's obsessed with her, he gave the donations since he saw how unhappy she was...and picked off all her friends because you know. Possessive much?

Kind of guy who likes to play with his victims, he does games like "hide and seek" or "where am i gonna stick the knife? :)" Definitely flirts with her as she tries to claw his neck out 🤡

But it's a final girl story, so ofc Ash wins and stabs him >:D Calls the cops using his phone and gets the hell outta dodge. Ofc, when she comes back, all the corpses are still there...except for Aiden *shrug*

Comic coming out in...the next decade presumably 💀

#sbg #school bus graveyard webtoon #sbg (webtoon)#school bus graveyard #aiden x ashlyn #aiden clark #ashlyn banner #aidlyn #slasher au #guess how many times i listened to Final Girl while i was drawing/writing these posts 🤡

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ghost-proofbaby · 1 month

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summary: the gang gets a dog, and aruna finds out that shadowheart is an excellent person to gossip with. just not when it's about aruna's own personal life.

wc: 5.8k+

warnings: some more leftover description of the blood-drinking ordeal, mentions of dead bodies, astarion is being avoidant again.

a/n: we've finally made it to scratch!!! and karlach!!! wahoo. also, i'm trying something new with the chapter dividers, so bear with me. <3

ao3 | masterlist | previous chapter | next chapter

“What-” Astarion is the first to speak up between them, pupils so large that they swallow his eyes in pitch black. A drop of her blood has long trailed past his chin, marking down the side of his neck now as he takes a shaky breath, “-was that?”

Aruna feels as though she can’t move as she brings ginger and nervous fingers up to her neck, pressing into the wound left behind. A damaged neck, a damaged mind – she was certainly acquiring quite the seen and unseen wounds, wasn’t she?

“I don’t know,” she mumbles, slowly pulling up her knees, trying to dispel all her dizziness, “I- Gods, I don’t know.”

One moment, she was getting lost in it all – in Astarion’s fangs inside her, in his hands holding her so closely, in the weight of his chest pressing to hers desperately and matching each of her ragged breaths – and the next, it had simply been pain.

Were they memories? Were they wishful hopes?

They felt so real. Each image had burned into her as though she’d already experienced them. Like she knew every inch of Astarion’s skin already, like a well-loved and memorized road map to all that she could be. As though she might have spent endless nights watching him with careful consideration as he would trance, not just under the stars but within a tent with her at his side. Even now, the ghost of how he had felt curled up against her haunts her vividly, somehow warming her despite the chill she knew he would leave behind.

“What in the Hells was that?” he repeats himself a bit more aggressively this time, quickly lifting a hand to swipe away at her blood trailing down his throat. He leaves behind the scarlet trail of her across his lips and chin – a painful reminder of what she had just given him.

Of what boundaries they had just crossed, only to be burned.

“Like I said two seconds ago, I don’t know,” she snaps this time, palm still cupping where his mouth had been. The blood flow had finally slowed, clots that would turn to scabs beginning to form.

“Was it your magic?”

“No-”

“Was this all an elaborate ploy just to get me close enough to use your magic against me? Conjure images just to-” his eyes flare with mistrust as he stands quickly. Against her better judgment, she follows, “Just to trick me?”

“It wasn’t my magic,” she grits out. She wishes it was – she wishes she didn’t believe any of those images to be real. She wishes she hadn’t just been handed over something to miss, “I don’t know what it was, but I had just as much control in it as you did.”

Dark holes in her mind, slowly growing over with all those memories. Gaps being filled, questions being only half-answered. It was as though a piece of herself had just been returned to her; as though she’s one step closer to being whole again. Fragmented puzzle pieces that were finding their place in her psyche whether she wanted them to or not.

He’s quiet for a few moments, still fiery with misplaced fury. “If it wasn’t your doing, what was it?”

Memories. Glimpses into a past, glimpses into another thread of time similar to this one, just a tad bit different. Frayed in different segments and taut where this one twists.

She knows that’s what they were, even if her churning gut and tired mind want to deny it to all Hells.

“I don’t know,” she lies with slumping shoulders, accepting the weight alone, “I wish I did.”

Gods, why is it so hard to lie to him? Why is her tongue suddenly so heavy as she forces each word out?

She could tell him what she feels is certain, ask him to indulge her in the possibility that what they just saw were real moments that had slipped from their grasp. Maybe she should ask him if he felt it too; if he felt a large, gaping hole in his chest as residual damage. She could ask him if it aches for him the way it aches for her.

But she isn’t going to.

She lets the weight of what they saw wash over her just as suddenly as the creases in his face smooth over. He’s compartmentalizing; she’s drowning.

They’re going to pretend it never happened. For real, this time.

He won’t admit to being a vampire, he’ll never tell the others that he’s tasted her blood, and he won’t be entertaining any theoretical discussion of all those moments they’d just seen.

There was too much vulnerability there to be witness to. The way that version of him had preened beneath her touch so comfortable, the way his body had melted against hers as if it had always belonged at her side. She feels like a stranger in her body as she recalls that softness that lingered between her and the man before her in those snippets that had just flashed between them. None of it existed in the here and now. She’s sure if she tried to lean her weight against him as she had in that memory (or whatever the scene had been) now, he’d scoff and toss her aside without second thoughts.

Where the Astarion that had been shown was all molten softness, there only lay sharp edges before her. Jagged bits and serrated defenses.

“Very well,” his mask returns in the blink of an eye. His chest puffs out again, his posture straightening and his chin lifting as he takes a few steps around her, adamantly keeping his distance, “In that case, I should retire back to my tent for the night,” she doesn’t turn to watch him, only listening to the soft crunch of his footsteps over twigs, “Before anyone notices our absences.”

Keen. Precise. Stabbing. Not an ounce of whatever gentle notions she’d seen from the version of him who had been tugging a blanket around her to ward off the cold. No softness to spare.

She can’t blame him. Even more haunting than the contrast of that version of him compared to this one is the difference between Aruna.

Someone kind, confident, and determined. A version of her with purpose.

For every sharpened point he bares, she wields a blade just as dangerous in comparison to who she might have been. The version of her in those visions was something soft, something to hold, something that had only ever bared its teeth to smile.

It doesn’t really matter that this Astarion wouldn’t wrap her in a blanket; this Aruna wouldn’t let him if he tried.

She’s almost sure she’s been left to her smothering thoughts, mouth still agape as she takes deep breaths to stay upright, when his voice cuts through the night one final time.

“This is a gift, you know. Strange visions aside.”

One final bout of deja vu swallows them whole as she turns slowly, just in time to see the way he turns his head. He’s not fully looking at her, but the gesture lets her know he’s speaking to her and not the moon, at the very least.

“I won’t forget it.”

It’s in his cadence, in the bit of his brow she can just barely see as it furrows. He means it, sincerely.

The hand that was still cradling the side of her neck drops so slowly that it hasn’t returned back to her side until he’s long gone, returning to his tent just as he had said he would.

—

In an interesting turn of events, Astarion is the one avoiding Aruna in the following days.

Every morning, she looks to his tent. And every morning, she finds it empty.

They don’t find another one of his meals during their adventures, thankfully. Aruna finds herself filling the empty space left behind from the absence of her shadow with Gale instead, to the point in which she doesn’t even have to ask the wizard to join her most days. He’s already ready for her, waiting as she finishes fastening her own armor and gear. No one knows outright about that night, about what Astarion is and about what Aruna gave, but Gale must have noticed something having changed. He must have sensed the gap for him to fill was there to have stepped up so easily.

Aruna doesn’t particularly care if they find out at this point, in all fairness.

Astarion’s vampirism is the least of her worries from that night. She could wake up to him trying to take another taste of her blood, and she wouldn’t even attempt to stop him. No, her companion’s strange affliction wasn’t the problem. The problem was what she truly gave.

It wasn’t just blood.

She spends most of her time lost in thought as she rolls those flashes of herself and Astarion around in her mind. The tadpole connection had yet to return to them, or perhaps neither of them had really tried to mend it yet, and she’s grateful for it. She can’t decipher if her gut feeling, if her assumption that what they saw were some strange and twisted version of memories was actually correct, or if it were something else at hand.

Had it been her magic? Had it been a side effect of a vampire drinking a thinking creature’s blood?

Maybe it was a projection of what she truly wanted deep down. A manifestation of her deepest wants and desires, entirely exposed to the two of them.

That must be it, because the more Aruna considers it, the more she realizes she wouldn’t mind being in the situations she’d witnessed. It would be nice to lay with a lover at the end of the day and feel the way they sunk into her touch. It would be reassuring to have someone there, ready to share body heat beneath whatever sorry excuse for a blanket they could get their hands on. It would simply be nice to feel like someone was on her side, given their current situation.

Although she could argue Gale was at her side, both metaphorically and physically.

When she stops at the entrance to a short bridge, not far from where they’d found the boar that had disappeared after Aruna’s night with Astarion, he’s right beside her. Not right behind her as Shadowheart and Wyll were, but beside her.

“Is that… a town?” she questions, squinting into the distance.

Across the bridge, she could see a crumbling wall with the roofs of buildings peaking just over it. And even further, an arched entrance that had a clear view of a few of those said buildings.

“It’s a bad idea, is what it is,” Gale murmurs, and she follows his trail of sight to see what had him consumed with hesitation – bodies.

Just between the cobblestone of the bridge and the entrance to this apparent village, several bodies lay across a blood-soaked ground. The bodies aren’t fresh by any means, but that doesn’t mean that whatever had killed those travelers wasn’t still nearby.

Aruna’s suddenly very glad she had half the mind to be mentally present for today of all days rather than still lost in her thoughts regarding Astarion.

“Well,” Aruna sighs, counting the bodies. Four, that she could see, “That’s not ominous at all.”

If Astarion had been with her, he probably would have laughed. Whether it was because he genuinely found her funny or not, he still would have been entertained by her sarcastic comment. A predictable pang rings out in her chest.

Gale could try to fill that space at her side all he wanted; he still could never fit the shoes of the vampire who was probably lounging back at camp at this very moment.

“Whatever killed them may very well still be nearby,” Wyll comments as he takes a few steps forward, peering at the scene, “Do you think it could have been the goblins that attacked the Grove?”

“Maybe,” Aruna shrugs.

Probably. Unlike with the boar, she doesn’t think Astarion would leave behind such a scene. Especially since she now knows.

“Gale and I could always go ahead, try to see if the culprit is still around,” Wyll offers, turning to look at the two mages, “Shadowheart and yourself could fall back and stay hidden. If it’s a trap, at least it gives us an upperhand.”

Shadowheart huffs from behind Aruna, “If it’s a trap, then they already have us right where they want us.”

It was moments like these where Aruna hated the burden of leadership. She didn’t want to make these choices. She squirms uncomfortably beneath the expectant stares of everyone, mind reeling as they force her hand. It was hard enough dealing with whatever her memory loss truly was, coping with the situation she’d gotten herself into with Astarion, nevermind trying to make tactical decisions like the one before her now.

“There’s nowhere for Shadowheart and I to even hide-” she starts, before Gale cuts her off.

“There,” he points to a broken food cart not far off, not quite halfway across the bridge, “You two could always hide there.”

Fair point. The decision, it seems, has been made for her.

“Fine,” Aruna surrenders, a hand flying to one of her daggers as she ignores the wary stare of Shadowheart, “Fine, you two go ahead. Just… just don’t enter the village. If we want to enter the village, we do it as a group. Got it?”

“Got it,” Wyll nods, grinning ever so slightly.

He takes a couple of steps forward, Gale joining his side instead, but they don’t take off to fully cross the bridge. Not yet.

They’re waiting. Waiting for Aruna’s command, her signal to go forth.

She hates it.

Regardless, she motions subtlety for Shadowheart to follow behind her as she quickly moves to stand behind that cart Gale had pointed out. And just as she slips past Gale, narrowly missing his shoulder, she nods at the two men to continue on.

The cart is an excellent hiding spot. She has a clear view of the braver half of their party as they approach the bodies, and she’s certain that if anyone lays in wait on the other side of the bridge, they wouldn’t be able to spot herself and Shadowheart.

“You know, now would be an excellent time to have a rogue with us,” Shadowheart whispers as she crouches beside Aruna.

Aruna knows exactly who the cleric is referring to. And it makes her already sour face twist up even further.

“It’s not my fault that Astarion was nowhere to be found this morning,” Aruna hushes back, careful to keep her voice low enough as to not travel with the wind.

One of her palms is wrapped around the hilt of her dagger, almost mimicking the common position of the man they were currently discussing.

Shadowheart hums softly, “Yes, how odd. First, it was you blatantly ignoring the pale one, and now it’s him avoiding you.”

“I wasn’t avoiding him-”

“When our journey first began, it wasn’t even a question. Every day, Astarion was at your side. You can’t tell me that this isn’t an avoidant situation after the two of you being so attached to one another.”

Aruna scowls as she bites her tongue. They hadn’t even been traveling together that long; all of Shadowheart’s accusations felt ridiculous. Even if she was on the nose regarding their current predicament, it’s not as though she had spent months with Astarion as her shadow. It had been a week, at most.

But had she been that obvious with her need to keep him close? She tries to recall if she ever even asked Astarion to join her previously, or if it had simply been a known choice. Each day they would be heading out on their search, and each day, Astarion was by her side before anyone else.

Just as Wyll and Gale approach the first body, Shadowheart speaks again, “I don’t mean to offend you or pry. It’s just… a curious observation.”

“Curiosity killed the cat,” Aruna bluntly replies, eyes locked on the two men as they investigate.

“True,” Shadowheart moves a bit closer, trying to get a clearer view at Aruna’s side, “But our group seems to have enough brushes with danger for that point to be moot.”

Aruna nearly rolls her eyes, finally tearing her gaze from Wyll as he crouches beside the second body to glance at Shadowheart, “We do not get into that much trouble. Besides, we’re all alive, are we not?”

“We are. Alive enough for two members of our party to be in a lover’s quarrel, it seems.”

Aruna’s entire body freezes, “Astarion and I are not-”

“You don’t have to defend yourself to me,” Shadowheart fights a smile, eyes deliberately locked ahead rather than looking at Aruna, “Your questionable taste in who warms your tent is none of my business.”

“I don’t even have a tent,” Aruna isn’t sure why she’s so hellbent on denying anything going on between herself and Astarion, but she is. Terribly so.

Shadowheart finally looks at her, “Perhaps you should fix that, then.”

“Of course,” Aruna says, brows creasing, “Let me just add it to my already massive to-do list,” she glances back up to the boys. So far, so good. No sign of an impending ambush, “You know, I never took you to be so keen on camp gossip.”

“And I never took you to be so sensitive regarding our camp rogue-” Shadowheart surely has more to say, but she’s cut off when Wyll stands abruptly and looks in their direction.

He waves, a bit too obviously for Aruna’s liking if an ambush is still a threat, and Aruna sighs as she pushes herself out of her crouch. “Stop worrying about where my fondness lies, Shadowheart. If you ever want to gossip about Lae’zel’s curiously large weapon collection, however, I’m all ears.”

When Aruna glances to the half-elf, she’s taken back to see the slightest of smiles on her lips. The woman had been head-strong and focused their entire journey, so lost by her need to solve the issue of their uninvited visitor in their heads, Aruna had hardly gotten any friendly vibes from her. Up until now, she’d only felt like a means to an end for her. But somewhere in that not-quite-a-smile, a warmth buries deep. Kindlings of a fire that could become friendship, if provoked enough.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Shadowheart hums as she stands to her full height beside Aruna.

Aruna sort of hopes the cleric does find a new reason to join her in camp and ‘gossip’ with her. There’s much worse company to share a bottle of wine with, Aruna imagines.

Their party reunites carefully as the two women cross the bridge to join the men. Gale is still crouched beside one of the bodies, having dug a flyer of some sort out of the pockets of the departed soul’s pockets.

“Find anything good?” Aruna asks as she approaches, squinting, trying to decipher what was on the page that Gale held so closely to his face.

Gale’s entire face creases as he glances up to her, “Nothing particularly invigorating, unless you consider a wild goose chase for some sort of Nightsong worthwhile.”

Shadowheart stiffens, earning her a curious glance from Aruna.

“Sounds interesting,” Aruna says slowly, eyes taking their time to look back to Gale, “But not very useful. Just grab any supplies left behind. I know we haven’t been ambushed yet, but I’m not overly eager to use that easy entrance to the village. We should probably find another way in.”

Gale ends up pocketing the flyer regardless. Aruna doesn’t press it, leaning down to grab a discarded weapon instead. She’s actually glad he had kept the page – it had elicited a reaction out of Shadowheart, whatever the Nightsong might be, and that was enough to spark Aruna’s endless curiosity.

They collect what they can from the bloody scene – a few extra packs, some even filled with food that hadn’t gone bad quite yet, and used weapons that could surely be put to use at some point – and it’s back to a despicable game of follow-the-leader. Aruna, guiding the group down a path along the side of the village, and everyone following blindly.

If she leads them to their death, they can’t even be mad.

Shadowheart follows a bit closer this time. Gale is forced to fall into step at Wyll’s side as the cleric claims residency over the clueless sorcerer’s side. It’s not until Wyll notices even more supplies discarded beneath a net in some of the foliage along the path that Aruna realizes why Shadowheart is sticking so closely to her side.

“I hope I didn’t offend you,” she says just as Aruna has taken to inspecting a bush to occupy herself. She was perfectly content for Gale and Wyll to be the ones to gather up the supplies they were finding – Aruna would much rather be left with her comfortably light pack for now, “Earlier. When I pointed out whatever… bond you’ve formed with Astarion.”

Aruna pauses with a lead pinched between her fingers, keeping her breathing even as she remembers the heavy letter that takes up residency in that light pack of hers, “Hard to offend someone without memories. Besides, you weren’t entirely wrong. Astarion has just proven himself… useful.”

Useful is an understatement. They may have only been traveling together for a brief time, but he’s already saved Aruna’s ass more times than she can count. The scales are horribly unbalanced, even including the gift of her blood that she had offered.

“You’re referring to Nettie, aren’t you?”

Aruna finally gives up pretending to be endlessly interested in the branch of the bush as she looks up to Shadowheart, “Amongst other things, yes. I still don’t know how he got the two of us out of there.”

If it hadn’t been for the sudden appearance of memories, Aruna probably would have given that more thought. She can’t imagine what sort of scene might have been caused or left behind after it was all said and done. They’d returned to the Grove since, and no one had made a fuss, which should be a good sign. But it only makes Aruna more curious as she gives it more thought now.

How had he got her out of there undetected? And had he hid Nettie’s body? Did the Grove even know what she had done?

“He didn’t exactly give the details,” Shadowheart looks just as curious, almost a little concerned, “It was quite an event, in all fairness. Nobody asked too many important questions about the how when he showed up with you, poisoned and covered in blood, in his arms.”

In his arms?

“He carried me back to camp?” Aruna chokes out, “Gods. I- I guess that makes sense, I just hadn’t considered the… logistics.”

“He more than just carried you, Aruna. I thought I might end up the next victim of his dagger if I didn’t comply with his demands to save you.”

Save Astarion. No matter the cost.

“I know he’s not always the kindest but, surely, he didn’t threaten y-”

“He did,” Shadowheart interrupts, raising a brow as she crosses her arms, “It’s the only time I haven’t seen the elf be an absolute sarcastic ass. He was deathly serious. With the way he panicked, I could only assume… I thought…” Shadowheart drifts off for just a second, leaving a beat of silence that speaks volumes, “Well, you don’t necessarily react that way towards a stranger.”

“You assumed I was his lover, based solely on his reaction to my near-death?” Aruna murmurs, eyes darting towards Wyll and Gale to ensure they weren’t eavesdropping.

“How would you react, right now, if I were to prick my finger on a poisonous bush?”

Aruna opens her mouth, the answer seeming obvious, before she stops herself.

How would she react?

She’d be worried, of course. She’d try to help, without a doubt. But how far would she go with all her worry and helpfulness? Would she go as far as to carry Shadowheart all the way back to their camp? Would she threaten her fellow companions if they didn’t do something to help?

“He wouldn’t leave your side,” Shadowheart’s voice drops to a whisper, looking right into Aruna’s eyes, as though she needed to make sure the girl was processing every single word spoken, “He wouldn’t let any near you without first knowing their business. And even then, he hovered. I don’t think he tranced once during the days you were down, showed no interest in eating either. I believe the only reason he allowed us to take you into my tent was due to the lack of his own,” she pauses and lets the words sink in as Aruna’s mind reels to keep up, “I would expect that behavior from Gale. Or even Wyll. But from the man who has seemed Hell-bent on maintaining an arm’s length distance from us all? The man who has pretended to be entirely unaffected by our entire situation and all the violence we’ve encountered? Truthfully, the fact that you two aren’t involved makes it all the more confusing.”

It was odd. It was entirely peculiar, extremely out of character for the man they had all gotten to know.

Or at least, the man that everyone else had gotten to know.

They weren’t exchanging light-hearted jokes with Astarion. There were no late night conversations under the stars with him for them to ponder on, no glimpse beneath the mask to ruminate on. No memories of a version of him that was softer than what he offered now. They saw him to be as sharp as his daggers, his words capable of digging beneath their skin far easier than his fangs even could.

Aruna had an unfair advantage, but so much of that had come after Astarion had been her knight in shining armor. She hadn’t given him a reason to care so deeply; even now, she hadn’t, in her honest opinion.

“I’d do the same for any of you,” Aruna finally says, but it’s a blatant lie. Her tongue isn’t quite as heavy as she speaks false words to Shadowheart, though. The vowels didn’t stick in her throat the same way they had when she’d denied Astarion of her full truths, “And I’m sure Astarion would, too, if it came down to it. We need each other to survive. That’s all.”

She would do the same, to some extent. She doesn’t think she’d be pointing daggers, but she would be worried. It’s not a full lie.

“All I heard is that we need each other to survive,” Wyll inserts himself with impeccable timing, the pack on his back now looking a bit bulkier. Aruna nearly snorts as she realizes Gale is seemingly taking the same approach as her with traveling lightly, “And I couldn’t agree more. Speaking of which…”

Three sets of eyes land on Aruna, and this time, she ignores the discomfort bubbling up.

They need each other to survive. This is far beyond just her and some silly mission to save Astarion now – these people, these friends, look to her for guidance. Reluctantly or not, eagerly or not, she should be mindful of the weight that carries.

She should be mindful of the trust involved.

—

“I’m an animal-lover just as much as the next-”

“It’s not up for discussion, Gale.”

“-And I also hated the idea of leaving the poor thing behind-”

“What’s done is done.”

“-I just think we should have considered how exactly we might be feeding this extra companion at camp! That’s all!” Gale finally finishes spitting out his argument to Aruna as they trek down a dusty road, a river rushing along their side, “We’re in no position to be collecting pets, Aruna.”

Aruna can certainly hand it to Gale – she wasn’t thinking about these particular repercussions when she’d encountered the poor dog who’s collar-tag read Scratch when she’d offered her scent for him to follow. But she’d made her decision, not even glancing back at her companions to include them in her choice, and there was no taking it back now. She almost wanted the dog to show up at their camp now, purely out of spite for the lecturing Gale had taken to giving her as they’d continued to follow the path.

The path which Aruna had a sinking suspicion would not be leading to a new entrance to that village. But her gut had been tugged in this direction, something whispered for her to follow the river, and she’s done enough critical thinking for the day. The worst that could come of it is that her internal compass leads them to absolutely nothing, and they have to make the far trek back to camp entirely empty-handed.

Or they could finally stumble into that ambush they’d all worried about at the main entrance to the village. That’s also a possibility, Aruna supposes.

“He wouldn’t be a pet, Gale,” she grumbles, slowing her steps as she looks around. There hadn’t been anything out of the ordinary so far.

“What would you call him, then?” Gale argues, fiddling with the straps of his own pack.

How ironic it was that he had taken to complaining so ardently about the possible furry companion when he’d happily looted the corpse of the previous owner, slipping numerous envelopes into his bag to read later. He certainly hadn’t protested then, when it served some sort of odd purpose for him.

“A…” Aruna trails off, facing Gale, back to the river. She racks her brain for a term that might justify her choice, even if only slightly, “A familiar. Yes - a familiar! You know, those trustworthy companions that those wonderful books of yours have detailed extensively? Are you truly so against me having one?”

Gale’s eyes narrow at her, “He is not your familiar.”

“He could be,” she chimes, standing strong in her decision, “He certainly won’t be yours with all your griping.”

“You two are…” Wyll glances between the two of them, sighing heavily, “Something.”

“Better she bickers with Gale than Astarion,” Shadowheart pipes up, quickly looking remorseful when Aruna shoots her a look, “Sorry, just- Gale doesn’t argue just for the sake of arguing with you. He’s actually making a point.”

Aruna opens her mouth, instinctively ready to defend Astarion despite the fact that that is exactly what he did when he’d join them in adventuring, but Gale beats her to a response, “Precisely! I only aim to ruffle the peace if it’s necessary. And a dog at camp? Well… not particularly necessary, if you ask me.”

“The dog will keep me warm at night when I’m left defenseless without a tent,” Aruna snaps, focusing back on the wizard, “There. Is that convincing enough for you?”

She certainly notices the chuckle that Wyll tries to cover up, and the slyest of quirks on Shadowheart’s lips.

“I’m…” Gale is speechless. It’s a blatantly obvious way in which he can’t fill her shadow’s shoes – Astarion would have been absolutely bursting at the seams with a snarky comeback for such a childish response from her. “I apologize. As you said, the decision’s already been made. I’m… I’m sorry for refusing to consider your side of it all.”

A nice way of saying I’m sorry I forgot you have far less than the rest of us.

They continue to walk with the current after that in silence, leaving Aruna to her own mindless thoughts. Worries for Scratch certainly linger, but she finds herself pondering her tent situation and her Astarion situation far more.

She really, truly needs to obtain supplies for her own tent. The weather may be gentle now, but if this situation drags out any longer (which she senses it will), she’ll need something to protect her from the chill of winter. Or even any rain, should it come to that. She could always bother one of her companions to allow her to bunk in that scenario, but she isn’t exactly eager with the idea.

Gale would keep her up with endless chatter. Shadowheart is still just a little too guarded to offer up her space, unless Aruna is on the edge of death, of course. Aruna has no good excuse when it comes to Wyll, but she certainly would have to sleep with one eye open should she try to bunk with Lae’zel.

There was always Astarion. If he ever decided to stop avoiding her, that is.

Aruna nearly cackles out loud as she glances up to the sky to see a few clouds gathering. Not quite threatening of a storm, but it certainly felt like a slap on her wrist from the Universe. A quiet reminder that all her theoreticals she was pondering over were very possible options.

“What’s that?” Shadowheart suddenly stops dead in her tracks, surprisingly, as Aruna continues to carry on, “Up there?”

It takes her a second, but Aruna quickly spots what Shadowheart is pointing out.

The next few events all happen too suddenly to properly react.

Aruna’s eyes widen at the ball of flames, huddled just across the river they had been following, a tree serving as a bridge between them and the fiery being. A terrible, nauseating deja vu disorients her nearly immediately as she begins to make out a figure at the center of those flames. The same sharp pains that haunted every new interaction with her fellow companions, a dizziness she’d only felt with Astarion spinning her world on its axis.

Her vision nearly goes black as that cleaved half of her soul becomes apparent, awakening at the sight. An overly eager whisper of, we’ve been here before. We know this. We know her.

The stench of sulfur is the only thing Aruna can make out as all her other senses fall victim to the deja vu.

As if below water, she can just barely make out Wyll: “Advocatus diaboli.”

She knows what’s about to happen. She can hear the venom in his voice, and she knows she has to act fast.

But Aruna’s actions are not her own. She doesn’t tell her feet to fly forward, attempting to catch up with Wyll as he barrels across the trunk-made-bridge. She doesn’t instruct her hand to shoot out, fingers narrowly missing the fabric of Wyll’s shirt and grasping at air as she gasps out, “Wyll, no!”

And she certainly doesn’t mean to lose her footing on that trunk, soles of her boots slipping, arms flailing for balance now rather than to stop Wyll from approaching the mass of fire.

Not even Gale and Shadowheart’s hands reaching for her biceps could save her from the rushing water waiting below.

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#ghost's stories #astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion x tav #astarion x oc #astarion ancunin x tav #astarion bg3 #astarion fanfic #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #the moon will sing #we start the chapter with her drowning metaphorically and end it with her drowning literally #how fitting

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