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imagine-knowing-a-name · 9 months

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déjà vu

Summary: After Age of Ultron, the team are left with the decision of what to do with Wanda, and they’re not in agreement. Natasha becomes staunchly defensive of the witch, remembering her own fate at SHIELD was decided in a similar manner.

(Summaries are tricky but Nat defends Wanda, R defends Nat, then they comfort each other at the end)

Word Count: 1188

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff & Reader; Wanda Maximoff & Reader (Platonic)

Warnings: Half the team are being mean to Wanda and Natasha gets sad :(

A/N: Based on this request. Thank you all for the awesome response to my last fic, it gave me the motivation to write despite everything else going on rn, so thank you and reminder to reblog and comment on fics if you can, because that’s what keeps writers posting their fics on here :) Enjoy!

»»————-　★　————-««

"We cannot let her waltz around scot-free without any repentance for her crimes!"

"She just lost her homeland and her twin brother; you don't think that's enough punishment?"

"She's HYDRA. She volunteered. She is everything we've been fighting against and you want us to, what? take her under our wing? make her even stronger than she already is?"

"Yes! That's the kind of power we want on our side-"

To nobody's surprise, Steve and Tony are at odds, driving the argument. Thor had backed Steve with the insight that second chances had done his brother a world of good. But everyone remembers the Battle of New York, and soon even Steve is wishing the God of Thunder would rescind his support. Bruce agrees with Tony, still racked with guilt over the Johannesburg incident. Then Clint voices his support for Steve, upon a conditional level of trust, to return the sides to an imbalance.

Sam and Rhodey use their newcomer status to remove their ballot from the decision; the two of them sneaking off, likely to do better things with their time.

The argument continues, never ceasing for breaths since everyone talks over each other, constantly interrupting the previous point. You grimace from your place in the corner; sitting, observing, and waiting for them to tire themselves out before you say your piece. Natasha meets your eye. She is doing the same.

"She's a child!" Steve continues

"She's going on 26! Steve you were Captain America by that age, I was the most famous CEO in the world! We weren't let off the hook for anything, were we? We weren't told we were 'just kids so it's all okay'. I paid for my mistakes, same as you did, and this glowing ball in my chest is proof of that."

"That's enough," Natasha finally speaks. Her voice is all it takes to bring the group to silence. "She's a victim. She was manipulated into her actions and she came around as soon as she realised that. We've all made mistakes, and joining the Avengers was our chance at redemption; let her have that."

"Her actions are her own, and I'm sorry, but they're too severe to wave off as a mistake, or ignorance"

"Is that the same with me?"

"What?"

"See, I was a victim too, but no one ever treated me like one."

"Nat-"

"No. Nobody was controlling me when I went through the Red Room; my actions were all my own, same as Wanda. But when your childhood is defined by manipulation and indoctrination, how much does that matter? I did the only thing I knew how to do and followed orders, same as Wanda, and I lost people along the way, same as Wanda. Have you even spoken to her, Tony? She's known since the age of 10 that your missile killed her parents, and HYDRA took advantage of that; you think you'd keep a levelhead if you found someone responsible for your parents' deaths?

So no. I spent too long thinking my transgressions were all my own, and I won't stand here and let Wanda believe the same."

Natasha strides out of the door with purpose and speed, while all eyes in the room track her movements in silence. It is only when the door slams that the team begins to break from their stupor.

You look around unsurely, meeting everyone's eyes as if to confirm its truth. You are the first to break the silence. "I'm going after her." Nobody contests.

You don't rush, you know where Natasha is after all and you know she needs time alone, but you also know to check up on her after an argument like that. You were there when Clint brought her back to SHIELD, when Fury and the archer broke into arguments echoingly similar to the one the team just had. You remember how much she struggled from her own mind, how they left her in a cell, just as the Avengers now have to Wanda, and you remember the thin walls, where Natasha could overhear all their arguments regardless of how you tried to distract her.

It isn't a surprise to you when you open Natasha's door and she refuses to speak. She watches you enter and makes space for you to sit beside her on the bed, but she doesn't speak. You talk to her for a bit, praising her stance, but it's clear she needs longer alone.

"I'll be here when you need," you say. She nods. You walk back to where you're needed most, passing through the common room still full of arguing Avengers on your way.

"Stop thinking about yourselves for once, and think about your fucking team," you say without even stopping to look at them, then you continue your path out of the room.

»»————-　★　————-««

Guilt sets in on the remaining Avengers as they fall to silence yet again. Clint reminds them what Natasha went through and from that memory, Natasha's hasty exit, and your outburst after seeing the assassin, they can all conclude how much the topic has hurt their teammate.

Clint apologies through her bedroom door; the others say sorry to her face once she lets them in. Natasha sighs, then nods her acceptance of their apologies. "The person you really should be saying this to is Wanda. She deserves support, not solitary isolation."

"Yeah, I don't think it's all that solitary," Tony says. He flicks his wrist to the wall, and soon enough FRIDAY is displaying a feed of Wanda's cell.

"Is that Y/N?" Steve asks, squinting for a better look.

Meanwhile, Natasha smiles, recognising the scene in front of her and knowing, with certainty, that it was you. She watches you and Wanda sit cross-legged on the floor with a plastic yellow board coming up between you. You both analyse it closely until you pull a circular blue chip from your hand and slide it in.

"That's four!" you cheer. Pointing out the four circles you had managed to connect. Wanda frowns, but you can tell it is not akin to the sorrow she had felt so often recently. At this moment, her mind is distracted entirely from that and focused only on the game.

"We have to play again. I can win this, I know," the Sokovian frowns. "I get first move."

You're still dividing the 'connect 4' pieces into their respective colours when a knock sounds on the cell door. You look up as Natasha opens the door, greeting Wanda with a smile.

"You doing okay?" you ask.

Natasha nods. "Thank you for being here, Y/N. And as for Wanda-" she switches her gaze- "we've got a room prepared for you if you're willing to stay. You can learn to control your powers; the team agreed I can train you."

"I would like that," Wanda mumbles, her nerves around the assassin still clear.

"Come on then, I'll take you to your room.” Natasha smiles and escorts her out, but before falling out of your earshot, she leans into Wanda conspiratorially, “I’ll even give you the secret to beating Y/N at that game.”

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x y/n #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff & reader #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff & reader #marvel #mcu #fanfiction #ikan writes

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feyascorner · 4 months

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Hi! So i got a small idea. Playing durge rn, and i keep hearing the narrator calling durge a “unlovable carcass” and they probably never felt a comforting touch nor reassuring words. So how would Astarion reassure durge? If possible could Tav be a male tiefling?

Have a good night/day❤️

a/n. thank you for the request! I only exclusively play durge so i love this prompt <3 redemption durge and spawn astarion are literally meant for each other and we need to talk about this more. I only write for GN!reader/tav at the moment, so I hope that's not a bother!

Your father has never been the loving type.

As the Lord of Murder, he lived up to his name, and since your very existence, you drowned in the blood of innocents and were expected to revel in such environments. But murder does not have time for love. It consumes you whole, leaving nothing behind but a hollow husk of a person that once was. And during your carnage, it seemed to be the norm.

Seeing Shadowheart reunite with her parents was a different experience than you'd been expecting. They wept, for hours, holding one another as if they'd known each other for decades despite being apart for so long. Her mother had kissed her forehead, holding her close as Shadowheart herself could do nothing but tighten her arms around her.

You wonder how comfort comes so easily to them. Years of nothing but destruction and blood have left you raw, with nobody to provide you with an ounce of their own care but the dead bodies of your victims.

An unlovable carcass. Affection is too foreign to you---too good for you.

"Why do you stick beside me?"

Astarion looks up from his wine glass, the moonlight illuminating one side of his face as he turns to you. "What?"

"I'm a bhaalspawn," you frown. "I nearly killed you once."

"Oh, please, darling, that's nothing to dwell on. We got through it, did we not?"

Your eyes fall onto your hands. "That doesn't change my past."

"You're different, now."

"Am I? Am I not still the same unlovable person whose urges call on them for bloody murder?"

He stills, then sets down his cup, his hand reaching for yours. You let him it, and you find yourself staring into the crimson eyes you've come to love dearly. You only wish yours were lovable in return.

There's a comfortable silence.

"I'm not accustomed to having to console you. It's usually the other way around."

You stifle a laugh, and he inches closer, lacing his fingers with your own.

"You are magnificent. Whether you're fighting battles or drenched in blood, you are one of the few things left in this world that I care for," he says. "I could not care less if you are a bhaalspawn or a bloody crocodile. You may think of yourself as unlovable, but you don't get to make my choices for me. And I, for one, choose to love you."

You're taken aback at first, but you manage to recover quickly enough, squeezing his hand. "Some might think of you as foolish."

"Perhaps. I couldn't care less what they think," he shrugs, leaning back on his palms. "When we do inevitably face your father, regardless of whatever choice you make, I am with you, my love."

The warm fuzzy feeling in your chest is one you're unfamiliar with. It's nothing like the erratic thumping of your heart as your blade plunges into a corpse. It's lifting as if you're floating on water, and if you're being completely honest, it scares you. But as he presses his lips against your forehead, you think it's not so bad.

#baldur's gate 3 #astarion ancunin #baldur's gate astarion #bg3 astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion #bg3 x reader #fluff #bg3

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redheadspark · 9 months

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Heeeeey! Hope u r having a wonderful day

From your prompt list, can I have Azriel from ACOTAR with prompt #12? Cuz I can totally see Azriel keeping his partner from getting up no matter if the other playfully struggles and I'm melting rn bc of that thought HAJSBDK

Do as you please I love ur writing, sorry for any disturbance I could cause w this, tysm take care🙏

A/N - I think this is beyond cute for Azriel! Thanks for requesting this, anon!

Stay In

Summary - Azriel will make sure you two enjoy your morning together

Warnings - Just some fuff :)

“Az..Az I need to get up today,”

“Says who?”

“Says our High Lord since I have a meeting with him in 30 minutes, as do you,”

The body next to you grumbled a bit, sheets shifting under and over you while the softer breeze from the early morning seeped into the master bedroom. Even the softer sounds of the leaves rustling in the tree right outside along the cobblestone street. You could breathe in the softness of the leaves and the cool air, along with the scent that your mate had along his skin and against the pillow that you were sharing together. If it was up to him, he would only have one pillow for your entire king-sized bed since he knew you would end up in his arms anyway with your head on his chest and arms around him.

The ever-brooding Spymaster of Night Court was nothing but mush when it came to you.

“No, come on. Let’s get up—“ You were starting to say as you were attempting to get up from the bed, but Azriel’s arms around your waist were keeping you in bed still. Of course, he would barely use any of your own strength when It came to you, you’ve seen him in heated battles and at the helm of wars. Yet he treated you like a dainty flower, never gentle with his scarred fingers and the lingering touches of his lips along your skin. You never had to be afraid of him, not when you knew deep down he would rather hurt himself than you.

“Rhysand doesn’t need us this morning, it’s only a formality meeting,” Azriel said along your backside as he drew you back into the bed once again, you chuckling as his lips were kissing the back of your neck over and over, “It’ll probably be no more than an hour long before they rattle on about something unimportant,”

“Yet you thrive at these meetings,” You retorted as you turned around and stared at him. His hair was disheveled and against the satin pillow, wings sprawled out behind him with a small lick of his shadows against his backside, the sheet pooled along his lower waist to show his tan skin and muscular chest. He merely grinned, making his eyes that were already bright even brighter from the small amount of sun pouring into the room now.

“I do, but I think today we should have a day off from meetings,” he commented, moving his arms from around your waist to rub your hip with his fingers, “I’m sure both the High Lord and High Lady would understand two less people at the House of Wind,”

You had to smirk at him, seeing him being all pliant was something that seemed more common in later days. There was no real threat in Night Court, the Battle against King Hybern was now the stuff of legend, nothing that was fresh and new. The people were safe again, only remembering that gruesome time as a mere story and cautionary tale. The rest of the Courts felt the same, and peace came over like a rolling fog. With peace came new chapters in our lives.

Especially for you and Azriel, who finally got married under the falling stars of Winter Solstice.

“Come on, we need a day to stay in bed,” He urged you as his fingers were still tracing your hips with a singular finger, “The weather is perfect for sleeping in, don’t you think?”

You paused, looking over to the window and seeing the rolling clouds that came from the direction of the mountains. Azriel watched you with his usual smirk, seeing that you were thinking it over before sighing in defeat.

“Victory!” He hummed as you laid back down in bed with him. You chuckled and slapped his chest, hearing him laugh as he tucked you in his arms again, “Honestly, this meeting is not going to be important anyway. Just some formalities on budgeting and the upcoming trip to Summer Court to talk negotiations.”

Glaring at him, you spoke, “How do you know?”

“High Lady Feyre,” He replied in a shrug, you looking at him in shock as he grinned widely, “I may or may not have asked her what was going to be discussed, and I may or may not have asked you and me to skip the meeting since we’re not involved,”

You had to give him credit for this, without you knowing anything about it. He would surprise you every once in a while, and it was not like him being the Spymaster of Night Court and someone who was always on his toes and ready to fight and defend. But these rare flickers of surprise and love that came from him, made you love him ten times more.

Leaning back to halfway lay on top of him, seeing his gaze stay on yours as you kissed his nose playfully, “Thank you, Az,”

“Anything for you,” He replied in a murmur, leaning in to kiss you softly over and over as another chill came into the room. You shivered, feeling Azriel move some of the sheets up to cover you both as you were still kissing one another and letting the morning roll on. With no meeting to go to, nothing to worry about or rush to, it all seemed too good to be true.

There was nothing better than doing nothing, with the love of your life.

The End.

September Prompt Session

#fanfiction #writing #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x female!reader #azriel x oc #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #a court of mist and fury #a court of silver flames #a court of wings and ruin #acomaf #acowar

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hannigramislife · 5 months

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for my own gratification bc i just ran into nie mingjue hate in the wild, would you mind making a post that defends my poor good boy? he worked so hard and got gaslit to shit before getting murdered terribly ;; literally everyone sat there telling him "youre being too harsh" and he's just responding appropriately. like yeah, if you witness a murder, ya kinda got to do something about that as a clan leader. its kinda your responsibility, even when you care about the person who did the murdering. he was also a really young when he took on the role of clan leader and idk, it just made me rlly sad to see people dunk on him cuz wtf he's literally just trying his best in an impossible situation WHILE being perpetually fucked over by his clan's own traditional cultivation cuz now the stronger he is as a leader, the closer he is to going literally insane and dying bc of it. (mingjue did nothing wrong i will die on this hill) ((sorry for going on a tirade, im just sad and defensive of my good boy rn))

Oh no! I'm so sorry you had to go through Nie Mingjue hate! Truly tragic. I went through that once when in the beginning of me reading the books, when I still had no proper opinions, and never again.

I'm more than willing to make a post about Nie Mingjue! I'm always down to talk about Nie Mingjue tbh, he's my heart and love and if I were to have been given the opportunity to be his right hand person, I would have simply never betrayed his trust and married him. Rip Jin Guangyao but I'm different.

Anyways, I, huhhh, actually think you?? Covered it all??? Pretty much?? Yet I will talk about it. This will be long and non-coherent, because I don't have the books rn to find quotes in them and honestly, I could write essays on Nie Mingjue either way.

Nie Mingjue is a central piece of the narrative, despite the limited amount of appearances he made, and the fact that he wasn't close to the main characters at all. The entire second part of the plot revolves around him- it happened because of him. His murder is a tragedy; literally, by greek standards, man has Cassandra Curse all over him, so I don't get how people can tell me, confidently, that his death was warranted. I've been told the man had asked for it, and this has mostly been by Jin Guangyao apologists.

So let me make something real fucking clear.

Nie Mingjue did not deserve to die. Let's get that out of the way, anyone can fight me on that. Nie Mingjue had more good qualities than half the people in this fucking story, despite his flaws. After his father was brutally murdered when Mingjue was only in his teens, Nie Mingjue stepped up as clan leader. We can only speculate the hardships that await someone leading a clan at such an early age. Yet, political challenges weren't the only thing he had to battle; Nie Mingjue knew about his clan's harmful cultivation, and he knew he was going to die young. So what did he do? His best. Literally his best, always. He was always giving 100% of his abilities, because that's who he was.

Let's talk about who Nie Mingjue was, shall we?

When Jin Guangyao, still Meng Yao then, describes Nie Mingjue, he finds himself perplexed, because Nie Mingjue isn't like other men. He is not frivolous, and he has no vices; Meng Yao describes how Nie Mingjue never showed an interest in arts, or alcohol, or women. All he did was train, and fight the Wens during the war. It shows that he had a one-track mind from the start, and has got a strict discipline; yet this strictly disciplined man, leader of a clan that prizes strength, continuously indulges his lazy and undisciplined half-brother, his one and only heir, despite not understanding his interests. We gather, pretty quickly, that Nie Mingjue is a bleeding heart for his brother, and for the ones he loves in general. We see the same softer side displayed in the presence of Lan Xichen, and of course, for some time, Meng Yao.

People seem to think Nie Mingjue took Meng Yao's betrayal too harshly. As if somehow seeing a man he thought to have been just and honest commit premeditated murder, then cover it up, was something he was just supposed to get over. To this day, I can't believe how Lan Xichen was so understanding of it. But not only did Nie Mingjue catch him in a cowardly act - Meng Yao proceeds to manipulate him, using the fact that Nie Mingjue cared about him, to stab him in the back. Or front, however it happened. I get that Meng Yao was in a difficult position, that he suffered at the Jins, that he felt backed in a corner; but Nie Mingjue was a man that had extended his help to Meng Yao before, and even then, he went to find Meng Yao in righteous fury, ready to help him again. To Nie Mingjue, the idea that Meng Yao "had no other choice" but to kill - to kill in the manner he did - it could have been nothing but a betrayal.

One thing that I personally highly respected Nie Mingjue for was the fact that he did not judge Meng Yao for his background. This is not up for debate; Nie Mingjue stood up for him, quite publicly, quite vocally, when Meng Yao was being insulted over it. And not only that, but he promoted Meng Yao to be his right hand man, just like that. Because he's impulsive, and to prove a point, but it was still huge of him to do. Not even Lan Xichen would have done that - In a society built on power dynamics between social classes, Nie Mingjue was one of the few characters who did not let that define his actions. It wasn't because he was born privileged (though he was) but because he he didn't let anything other than his judgment direct his actions. Nie Mingjue also never shied away from anything; if it had to be done, he did it, no matter the cost.

Nie Mingjue was decisive, and had an iron will. When Meng Yao killed the Nie disciples in Qishan, he wanted to kill Meng Yao. Meng Yao told him, paraphrasing, that "don't you understand that if I hadn't done that, it would have been your corpse up there?" and Wei Wuxian takes it to mean "Translation: I saved you so you can't kill me, because that would mean you're in the wrong." So Nie Mingjue hesitated for a second, then said: "Fine! I'll kill you, and then take my own life!" And the only reason he didn't, was because Lan Xichen was there. Otherwise, Nie Mingjue would have killed his former friend, then followed him to whatever afterlife awaited.

Nie Mingjue is often portrayed like he doesn't understand stuff, like he's stupid, simply because of his black and white sense of morality. That's not correct: Nie Mingjue understands motive, but he doesn't accept the ends justifying the means. Scratch that, he doesn't accept or justify either, if they're unjust. The murder of the Jin commander, the murder of the Nie disciples, not executing Xue Yang - how can Nie Mingjue possibly understand Meng Yao's decisions, when Nie Mingjue would rather die, any day, than live thanks to vile actions?

And then, Nie Mingjue starts falling into qi-deviation. We know that it affected his temper the most, and his judgement. I don't understand how it works, really, so I don't know by the end how much was Nie Mingjue and how much was the mess that the spirit made of him - maybe a combination of the two. But what is certain, is that the rapid qi deviation changed him.

But I could write a hundred more pages on him, meticulously going over every single scene he has ever appeared in, because I find him that interesting. I find him the most interesting, and the most appealing character, because in a story where the navigation of the cultivation world's complex politics and hierarchies with tact and diplomacy is crucial, Nie Mingjue stands uncompromising in his principles, choosing duty and honor over anything else, even when it's hard.

#the untamed #mdzs #cql #mo dao zu shi #nie mingjue #nie mingjue had his flaws #and he had his virtues #i will not allow slander on his name #when he always did what he thought was best and just and good #when he was loving and kind and hot-headed but he was also just in his early 20s with the weight of the world on his shoulders #cold absolutely freezing day in hell when i'm over him

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hms-tardimpala · 4 months

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Ficbinding: the Cultivation series

Over the weekend I bound the Cultivation series by xxSparksxx.

The fic: The Hobbit, bagginshield, rated G and T, 25.8k The series is composed of Roots and the sequel Branches. Synopsis for Roots:

Here in Erebor, among the Dwarves who had reclaimed their home with blood and sweat, Bilbo could almost forget that he was a Hobbit of the Shire. He could almost forget that Hobbits were not as other beings of Middle-earth, and that a mountain devoid of rich plant life was not the place for one such as he.

The fics are set post Battle of the Five Armies. Thorin and his nephews survived, and Bilbo settled in the rebuilding Erebor, but it starts to affect his health in a dire way. In the second fic, a certain Frodo Baggins appears... These fics are incredibly well-written, they're about cultural differences a lot, and that's one of the things I like the most about Thorin and Bilbo. The secondary characters are great too, special mention to Tauriel. And I loved Bilbo in this story, and I have a really hard time finding versions of him I like in fics (even in the book and movies, tbh, I'm a more of a Thorin guy).

The bind: I'm continuing my foray into smaller books (smaller than an A6 format) with this. I chose green for the cover and bookmark and brown for the headbands to go with the nature theme of the story. As usual, no titles on my books.

Things I'm happy about:

the margins: I'm learning to use my guillotine well and this is the first book I'm very happy with regarding margins. I tend to cut too much and struggle to cut straight, but this is a beauty.

the well-rounded spine

the decorations at the beginning and end of the stories, and next to the page numbers

the typesetting in general, with the drop caps and fonts.

All the things I'm less happy about are linked to the material I used for the cover. It's too-thick pleather that's not made for bookbinding, so I can't make a crease near the spine with it, I can't make elegant corners, and other minor flaws. The thing is bookbinding materials are expensive, and I can't put too much money into what is ultimately a hobby, so I have to use my stock of cheap and not great materials first.

But I really like this one! It's sturdy and small and nice, and it'll make rereading this series very pleasant.

Feel free to ask me about materials and fonts, it won't bother me at all to tell you what I used, but I'm too lazy rn to write it in this post that's long enough already.

#bookbinding #ficbinding #my bookbinding #bagginshield #the hobbit

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bas-writes · 1 month

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a lot has happened lately, but so far i haven't made any official statement about my decisions and the path i want to take as a writer. it was a long road of trial and error & detailed examination of conscience in regard of my bad habits, gained experience, and goals and expectations. there are some massive changes that i need to address, followed by explanation of my decisions. i know i don't need to explain myself but i feel it's only fair to my loyal readers to share at least little insight into the context.

I. One Piece goes on indefinite vacation...

not going to lie, i was falling out of this fandom for years. it's started in 2021 when i fell victim to bullying and stalking, initiated by a widely-known (and still active, as far as i am aware of) x reader writer. it's the biggest reason for my slow withdrawal but not a sole one: pressing discourse around my comfort characters, toxic environment i fell into when looking for a relief from relentless bullying, forcing myself to write for topics and characters i didn't even like, readers overstepping my boundaries over and over again, falling into a trap of purity culture...oh, the list is long. way too long.

i still love one piece but i don't want to create for it en-masse anymore. right now it's just a wound that's far from healing, i need to treat it at my own pace. aside from an occasional poke at sapphic topics and my fav trio, i doubt it will appear in other way than commissions or gifts for friends. and some characters (kid, sanji, marco, katakuri, shanks & a few more) will never return.

II. ...but new fandoms arrive!

jujutsu kaisen is right now the main love of my life & will remain as the main fandom for long. but i found more series and characters i adore enough to feel that creative spark buzzing in my veins. soon you should see fics appearing for: demon slayer, chainsaw man, haikyuu and hell's paradise!

i'm keeping my head low rn when it comes to requests but i want to hold at least a kinktober open for them so you definitely will have an opportunity to see your faves from those series from me!

III. It's a gender neutral & afab Y/N sphere now!

it's something that was inevitably floating over me and my fics (and some of y'all definitely caught the whiff of it already), but i couldn't quite find courage to put a hard limit. we all know how it is in the y/n circles: way too many people expect from writers to cater to everyone, and treat it as a personal offense if you prefer to play in your own sandbox. as if writing y/ns was "activism", not a fandom activity like any other.

so, i won't force myself to write against myself anymore. i feel the most happy and comfortable when i make my y/ns gender neutral and when i'm giving them vaginas (and sometimes boobs) when i'm writing smut with them. i don't want to battle my weirdly-veiled dysphoria to force female reader out of myself. i don't want to stress myself while writing amab y/n, from the sheer biological fact of being unable to relate via lack of penis, to being sick and tired of the toxicity and misogyny that m!reader circles reek of.

so, gender neutral and afab it is. sometimes i will stray towards afab nonbinary or transmasc direction, if i feel like i need some good gender vibes coming from my fics.

it doesn't mean i will never write different y/ns. commissions, gifts for friends, exchanges, random ideas for a plot that requires a specific kind of y/n, sapphics feels, and such will appear here and there. i will also interact lots with f!reader fics, since it's what i see lots around & don't mind reading, if i feel more fem or if it's from a writer i like and trust.

incoming ino x reader (that i hope to publish tomorrow) will be the last non-sapphic f!reader that will appear for a long while. all requests i'm keeping in my drafts right now will be turned into completely gender neutral or from fem to more general afab reader (i don't have any requests for amab readers rn anyway). unless you really don't want to have f!reader taken out of your request - then please, let me know, i will delete it so you can head with it to a different writer.

IV. Never miss a fic again - sign for a tag list!

and now a little treat! if you don't want to miss a fic about the topic that might interest you, you may sign for a tag list by filling a simple form!

V. And what am I going to do now?

write, write, and write even more! i wanna write the in the heat of spring drabbles before the spring is gone, have three fully-fledged multichapter fics outlined and itching to be written and posted, and an interactive event with which we will welcome the summer 💦

in june i want to publish a few sapphic fics that i had in mind for a while now & later towards the second half of summer (think august-september) i'll smile at you again with a kinktober i really want to complete this year!

there might be a few smaller events on the way, depending on how busy i'll be. there's an idea for dilf enjoyers and for a chubby y/n, as well as many others that still didn't take a clear shape.

i also didn't forget about the kiss event and nonsexual acts of intimacy for the fluff enjoyers!

if you survived this wall of text (or just scrolled down here lol understandable) - thank you for your patience, understanding, and support. whether you're here with me since the very beginning or clicked the follow recently, i'm happy to have you here ❤ if you have any questions or just want to talk, my askbox is open for any kind of interaction! and if you want to support a poor writer who has way too many health-related spendings lately, you can buy me a ko-fi ❤

#bas speaks

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onyourowndaisymae · 1 year

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Yoo I have two request which I’ll send the other one separately but I am in an ANGSTY mood rn sooo yah also been binging ur headcanons and stuffs and I just love the way you write ?? It’s so entertaining lol

AnywY the actual request: can you write like a one shot or headcanons if you prefer of mc who is struggling after the belphie incident ?? Like they feel like they’ve mostly forgiven him and can act normally around him and they’re friends and take naps together but sometimes the flash back just HITS THEM and they have nightmares and panic attacks that can be so bad sometimes someone needs to get Simeon to calm them down. Maybe something of how the brothers react/treat mc and belphie? Idk I’m just thirsting for like MEGA ANGST rn bc my dad made me cry little bit lmao 😭

it comes at night

hello anon! i'm terribly sorry you're in such an angsty mood, though i thank you for all the love-- and for sending this request right as these ideas were on the front of my mind. it genuinely makes me so happy to see people enjoying my work, and it makes all the writer's block and such worth it. i cannot express enough how much i love seeing all the comments, reblogs, etc. as people engage with my work.

anyways. i'm not sure how i feel about this piece, especially with how LONG it ended up being, but maybe that's just my mushy brain talking after looking at it too long. regardless-- i hope you enjoy (well, y'know, in like a sad and angsty way).

synopsis: you thought you would be able to move on like all the others. your body was healed, your anxiety tucked neatly behind a mental wall built to keep you safe. yet something in you was stuck. you couldn't just move on. you were trapped in a battle between your friendship with belphegor and the fear gnawing at your brain as you remembered what exactly he did to you. when the dam finally breaks, your whole brain floods with terror, until you're swept away with it. nobody can save you now.

genre: angst, no happy end, just a big ol spoonful of sadness

word count: ~3.1k

content warnings: chapter 16 spoilers, graphic(?) discussions of death, depictions of panic attacks, nightmares, mc progressively getting worse from fear + lack of sleep

it's funny how time works.

you'd been around your fair share of years. you’d grown, you’d changed, you’d spent your entire life looking toward the future you had planned. then you, a mere human, were yanked into an unfamiliar world. you spent an entire year in the devildom– a year that simultaneously dragged on and flew by– and came out the other side a new person. a single year in the devildom has changed you more than the human realm has your entire life. time was a mischievous thing, always leaving you chasing behind in a fruitless pursuit of something you’ll never quite understand.

but, she also brings blessings with her. they say that time heals all wounds. you've always agreed with that sentiment. scraped knees and adolescent broken hearts are swept away with the passing days, trailing further and further behind you until one day you forget to look back and remember them. the pain scribbled down on diary pages or cried into pillow cases no longer stings like a fresh burn. these things are nothing but scars now. time has a special way of patching you up, of rubbing your back until the tears clear up and you can finally see again. that is how it's always been.

where is time when you need it?

she hasn't quite abandoned you, this much is true. cuts and bruises heal over the passing days. your hair and nails still grow. your body still changes, slowly but surely, marching onwards week after week. yet your mind is trapped in stasis. you struggle to break free, but at times the rot consumes you whole, until you’re crying under the covers and begging from respite from the memories.

on the worst nights, you find yourself in the attic again, watching the door between you and belphegor swing open. you watch yourself march towards death.

you can still feel his hands around your neck, digging his claws into your fragile human skin like you're made of sand. the scent of blood-- your own blood, on the floors, on the walls, leaking from your torso and staining your clothes a permanent maroon-- still clings to the inside of your nose. even your wildest dreams could not erase the sight of his smug grin, the way his eyes lit up looking at your battered body.

no one person should have to carry the weight of realizing they're going to die. that's what you thought about when your body hit the bottom of the stairs, when belphegor tossed you down from the attic with a harsh laugh and punted your limp body into the entrance hall. you thought about how unfair this all was. you were just trying to help. you thought you were doing the right thing.

one of the worst parts of your untimely demise was watching the others react. the voices pool together in your head, like the colors of the rainbow twisting together on the surface of an oil spill. asmo's panicked shriek blends into satan's angry shouts, desperate to understand what's going on. lucifer's yelling almost drowns out the fearful cries coming from levi, held back by a very silent beel.

but above all of that, you remember mammon. your first man, the first demon who took a chance on the defenseless little human, rushing to your side and gathering you in his arms like you were about to break. his hand on the side of your face, the tears streaming down his face, the shaky, desperate voice assuring you that you'll be okay and begging you to hang on, okay? please don't leave me. you can't remember if he was shaking or if it was your body's last ditch effort to stay conscious-- maybe both. your trembling fingers intertwined with his. words came out of your mouth, and you're not sure what exactly you said, but he only cried harder in response.

and then, as your eyes shut for the final time, you woke at the bottom of the attic stairs. you had cheated death.

your price? you had to carry the memories.

the world kept spinning. days passed in the devildom. you returned to school, kept on top of your homework, spent your days in the house of lamentation alongside the seven demon brothers. you even got to know belphegor as he navigated his return home. he quickly grew fond of you. that, in and of itself, was jarring. but you returned each and every smile with one of your own. his actions were rooted in his own grief for his sister, you knew, and for that you could not fault him. you helped him repair the severed relationships between him and his elder siblings, stitching the family back together like a prized quilt until the seams of betrayal were sufficiently hidden.

time is a traitorous bitch. why did she choose now to leave your wounds bare and bleeding?

everyone moved on but you. everyone got to wake up in the mornings without a nagging anxiety holding them back. the others could hang out with belphegor day in and day out without a growing feeling of dread popping up when you think you're safe.

he killed you. he was grieving. your blood drenched the entryway floors as he laughed. he has grown. you watched the light leave mammon's eyes as you slipped away. belphie has been nothing but kind to you since that day. you fucking died.

you wish your mind could pick a side. did you forgive him, or did you resent him? was he your friend, or your killer? these answers evaded you in the dead of night as you struggled to sleep again. it was becoming more common for you to lose hours of rest to these nagging fears. who are you? are you even you anymore? did the switch in timelines scatter your atoms across countless universes, leaving the you that looks back at you in the mirror nothing more than a hollow shell?

you thought that you could keep your mind on a tight leash, keep your cards close to your chest as you continued to live with the brothers. you were wrong.

the first meltdown came during a nap with belphie. you had grown to trust him-- you thought you trusted him-- enough to sleep around him. he'd coax you every so often into an afternoon nap. always in the light of day, always your choice. and for many afternoons, you were perfectly content with this arrangement. belphie was warm and cuddly, a perfect companion for a lazy afternoon. he had this way of making you feel safe as you slept-- the nightmares couldn't come when he was snuggled up next to you, when you were sure his actions were ones of affection and not another trick to gain your trust.

one afternoon, while the sun was beginning to set, you stirred under the warmth of the blankets. the body next to yours lingered close, steady breaths lulling you back to dreamland. you could stay like this forever, you thought.

and then you felt it. the gentle graze of a familiar cow tail against your skin.

something inside of you, a dam you didn't even know was there, snapped. a hot flash of panic rose up your throat as your whole body jerked away from the feeling. your eyes shot open and you found yourself in the last place you needed to be right now: the attic. you pulled yourself out of bed before your brain could catch up. colors flashed across your vision as a consequence. you whipped around, disoriented and upset, and spotted a sleeping belphie in the bed where you once were.

a sleeping, demon belphie.

the familiar curve of his horns made your throat spasm as you tried to breathe. the colors flashed in your vision again-- oh god, what a terrible time to be left defenseless-- as your brain tried to drag you back to that day. you could practically see his face shift from relief to malicious, insidious joy as he began to attack you.

"hehe... does it hurt? finding it hard to breathe? i'm sure it must be very unpleasant."

please. please no.

" i have to say, seeing a human face twisted in pain like this... why, it's so much fun that i can barely stand it! i... i can't contain the laughter!"

you weren't quite sure when you hit the ground, but it was loud enough to wake belphegor from his slumber. he peeled his body off the mattress, slow and dazed, as he looked for you.

"mc? what're you... what's going on?"

please don't. this can't be happening.

your lungs collapsed from the weight of your own panic. you gasped-- once, twice, as your vision went in and out. were you bleeding? your hand loosely brushed at the front of your clothes, but couldn't process whether that was blood or your vivid imagination. were you even breathing? your head felt light and heavy at the same time. the wires in your brain were all crossed, sending both resuscitation and shutdown signals to each part of your body. this feeling... this was too familiar.

were you dying?

"mc, what's going on?"

you came face to face with belphegor. your friend, your killer. the demon who had lured you up to this very attic to kill you, now gripping your shoulders as interrogated you inches from your face.

you screamed. you screamed until your brain shut off completely, leaving you in an inky pit of darkness as your consciousness slipped away.

the house was in disarray for several days. apparently, lucifer came in shortly after you passed out, mammon at his heels, to save the day. you woke up later in his bed, the room cold and empty, with a throbbing head and a tear stained pillow. you stumbled out into his office to find him at his desk, lost in some paperwork like always. the solemn look he gave you as your eyes met told you everything you needed to know.

from this day forth, your fear was now your constant companion.

nobody in the house of lamentation knew how to move forward. not you, not the brothers, not the widening gap growing between you all with each passing day spent in emotional limbo. finally, lucifer called everyone to a family meeting where, over the course of an hour or two, everyone came to an agreement to acknowledge what had happened and why, promised to be mindful of this trauma that you're carrying, and move forward like you requested.

silent days slowly but surely filled back up with laughter again. the brothers came back to your side at their own pace-- asmo first, within a matter of hours, then mammon shortly after, then the others in the following days.

belphegor was the last to come around. his silence spoke volumes about his guilt. he had no clue how to comfort you. he'd do anything to repent for his actions. yet that was the way that life worked, didn't it? some actions simply cannot be undone.

but you didn't let that stop you. despite the panic that closed your throat every time you saw him for the next month, you slowly earned his friendship again. you assured him that the attic incident was a one time thing, the remnants of a lost nightmare blending into your consciousness as you awoke.

until it wasn't a one time thing.

the nightmares crept up on you. the first one happened, of course, that same night, as you thrashed and wept into lucifer's pillows. then a week later, another. a week and a half after that, another. the frequency eventually became higher and higher, until you started planning your sleep schedule (or lack thereof) around your new insomniac tendencies. but even you couldn't manage to stay awake forever.

on a bad night, you'd wake up in tears, crying weakly to yourself as you tried to coax yourself back to bed. on worse nights, you'd shoot up out of bed, limbs tingling in fear, opting to spend the rest of the night in the common room until the others woke for the day. on the worst night, you finally broke. you shattered worse than you could have imagined.

you finally collapsed into bed, body shutting down after a three days of minimal sleep. you were starting to get shaky from the lack of rest, and your lack of appetite was upsetting the others. you crawled under the covers and let your brain slip out of your hands and off to dreamland.

what a fool you were to think you'd get by without nightmares.

visions of demonic teeth tearing at your flesh filled your head. you tried to run away, tried desperately to wake yourself up, but their claws sunk into your flesh. the pain was vivid, was real. memories of your death lived underneath your skin, ready to resurface in the dark of night when there was no escape. you fought back as best you could, kicking and screaming and trying to run, but you were no match for the supernatural strength of your demons. you eventually gave in, an act of learned helplessness, and surrendered yourself to your worst nightmares.

you woke up choking on your own tears. heaving, gasping breaths tried to save you, mixing with coughs as your body struggled to hang on. the tears finally gave way to the memories-- hot blood dripping from your torso, screaming faces begging you to stay, your head going fuzzy as your vision followed--and your screams escaped without a fight.

a mixed cacophony of voices came flooding in the room. you'd be touched by the gesture, seeking comfort in the arms of your dearest friends, if your brain hadn't reminded you that they were demons as well. nightmarish beasts with fangs and claws, predators built to rip your soft flesh from your bones and leave you to die like roadkill.

you felt a hand on your shoulder. who's was it? you could not tell. your first and only instinct was to scream for mercy, hot tears streaming down your face as mammon's hurt expression moved back out of your line of sight. your chest heaved with effort. it felt like your whole body was caving in on itself. you didn't even realize you were shaking as you curled your body into a ball. your side hit the mattress with a pathetic thud and you wept, bitter and fearful, as a panic attack kept you trapped in its grip.

you don't know how long you stayed curled up like that, wordless cries echoing from your room and into the hallway, but eventually the sound of approaching footsteps caught enough of your attention to forget the panic, even if just for a moment.

"hey, it's okay," a familiar, comforting voice approached, cutting through the fear like a moonlight on a stormy night. "mc, it's me, it's simeon. it's going to be okay."

you felt the bed shift under the weight of someone sitting down, and you blindly threw your body at the person before checking to see if it was really him. it took you a few moments to raise your head, and when you did, you saw him: simeon, your angel, blue eyes full of worry as he met your gaze.

you cried in his arms until you fell into a fitful, dreamless sleep.

the next morning was miserable, to say the least. breakfast was tense. they all watched you like a hawk, like you were a powder keg about to explode with one wrong move. you couldn't blame them. you were afraid of your own emotions, and on some level, you were afraid of them. your trauma was making you afraid of the very people you cared about the most. these brothers had welcomed you into their home, took care of you as you adjusted to life in the devildom, and yet you couldn't hold eye contact without breaking in to a cold sweat.

the only person who did not watch you was belphegor. he was nowhere to be found during breakfast, nor dinner, nor breakfast the following day. you tried to seek him out, but somehow the avatar of sloth had become a skilled sneak in his silence.

you finally caught him alone on day four of radio silence. you both had stayed home without realizing the other had also skipped school that day-- you, from the lack of sleep eating at your brain, and belphegor, with his usual routine of missing class to nap at the house of lamentation. he was curled up on the couch in the common room, basking in the warmth of the fireplace in his slumber. you decided to wait for him to wake up. you sat down on the couch opposite of the one where he rested and watched him, quietly, like he'd disappear if you dared to blink.

creepy? yes. but your brain was long ruined by sleep deprivation and gnawing anxiety to worry about such trivial things.

when he finally stirred, you gently called belphegor's name. he took a moment to finally look at the source of the voice, but when he did, his body froze as the two of you made eye contact. a few moments passed in silence. finally, he sat up and began to make a move to leave.

"wait."

he stopped, but his gaze did not meet yours. you rose from your seat and joined him on the couch. the youngest pulled his legs in, twisting his body into a defensive little ball, and countered your next sentence before you could even open your mouth.

"you shouldn't be here with me."

"i think i'm old enough to make decisions for myself."

he shifted uncomfortably in the silence. you spoke again.

"i miss you. and i'm sorry."

he scoffed to himself and stared at the fireplace. "don't know why you think you should be apologizing to me. i'm the one that's the problem."

"you're not a problem, belphie. i never meant to make you feel like one."

every hair on your body stood on end. your hands trembled against your wishes, so you sat on them to stay focused. you had to do this. you had to keep moving forward.

"i hurt you, mc. you're afraid i'm going to do it again."

you sighed-- it came out more shaky than you would have liked-- and looked down. how had it come to this? how had someone you'd grown to hold so dear become a stranger again?

"i don't want to stop being friends. i don't like when you avoid me."

"you still get nightmares, don't you?"

you pause. his icy gaze on the side of your head sent you into a cold sweat.

you smiled-- it felt more like a grimace, personally-- and prayed it didn't come across insincere. your fingers carefully intertwined with his. he met your gaze. you were thankful he couldn't see the way your chest tightened when you made eye contact.

"i'm okay, belphie," you lied.

this fear was going to be the death of you.

#i cannot tell if this is good or not i've looked at it for hours #ask answer #obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me swd #obey me writing #obey me fanfic #obey me angst #obey me brothers #obey me belphie #obey me belphegor #obey me chapter 16 spoilers #otome

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nebbyy · 15 days

Text

QUICK MESSAGE

For all the people who sent me fic/headcanons requests, they're being written don't worry! It's taking me much, much longer than expected because of some school issues I've been having, but they're on their way to get posted!

Hopefully they'll be almost all out before june, but I won't make promises.

Just so that you know that your requests haven't been forgotten, here's a list of all requested Baldwin IV fics that I'm working on rn:

Reader sneaks into the battle of Montgisard to reunite with her husband

Reversed "sweetest of melodies" where Baldwin is the one singing

Labor and birth headcanons

Reader giving birth to triplets (will probably be a part 1 for the other following two)

Baldwin has to keep distance from his newborn children

Baldwin and reader spending time with their children

Baldwin falls in love with the bandit that kidnapped him

Baldwin comforting reader after a nightmare

General headcanons

Only case in which Baldwin would lash out at reader

Reader who loves math

Baldwin falling in love with a servant

These should be all, I really wanted to make this post to reassure those who have asked for these fics almost weeks ago, please bare with me I'm trying to write as quickly as possible without lowering the quality of my writing😭😭

#kingdom of heaven #king baldwin x reader #king baldwin iv #writers on tumblr #headcanons #fluff #my fic #f!reader #king baldwin x you #angst #requests closed #writing requests #anon request

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yanderes-galore · 1 month

Note

Rho 'Barutamee yandere alphabet, please?

I can try, sure! I'm warning you, I have been falling out of motivation for Alphabets and Halo rn... but I hope you enjoy >:) Added some dialogue to sweeten things.

Original Concept Here

Yandere Alphabet - Rho 'Barutamee

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Possessive behavior, Manipulation, Violence/Murder, Death, Blood, Unhealthy power dynamic, Biting/Marking, Mentions of being called mate and pet, Jealousy, Sangheili/Sangheili or Human/Sangheili pairing, Imprisonment, Isolation, Forced relationship.

Affection: How do they show their love and affection? How intense would it get?

Like most Sangheili I write, Rho is possessive. This is shown in his affection when he pulls you into his lap while he's in his chair. He nips your neck and holds you tightly.

Rho is laid-back compared to most Sangheili, but he will mark you as his. There's times he can be intense with you or those around you. As a leader, he knows how to intimidate.

"Sit down... I need to show them you're mine."

Blood: How messy are they willing to get when it comes to their darling?

Rho, like most if not all Sangheili warriors, will get messy. He likes to show he's powerful. If someone on his crew touches you, or judges his preferences...

He'll kill them.

He'll execute them in front of everyone, including you, just to show no one can touch what's his.

The blood coating his gold armor only shows what he really is deep down... a warrior possessive of his mate.

"Anyone who thinks about touching what's mine... will die by my hand, understood?"

Cruelty: How would they treat their darling once abducted? Would they mock them?

Rho is possessive but tries to be accommodating. Once you're on his ship he expects loyalty and submission from you. He wouldn't mock you if he doesn't have to.

He is a bit reserved and not the most affectionate, but he comes off strong when he is.

"The ship is open for you to roam... but you're forbidden from leaving."

Darling: Aside from abduction, would they do anything against their darling’s will?

Not unless he feels he has to, like if you're trying to escape or defy him.

"Give me your loyalty... give me your submission."

Exposed: How much of their heart do they bare to their darling? How vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling?

Rho is reserved and doesn't like showing many vulnerabilities. Even though you're his mate and he'll so anything to show that... he dislikes being so honest. It's no doubt due to his culture, too. They don't confide in one another often.

"Do not pry, dear... I do not wish to tell you such matters."

Fight: How would they feel if their darling fought back?

Amused albeit irritated. He appreciates your fighting spirit but doesn't want you fighting him. So... it seems he'll have to discipline his dearest obsession.

"If only you used such a spirit in battle, dear."

Game: Is this a game to them? How much would they enjoy watching their darling try to escape?

Not really and he'd be a mix between amused and irritated if you tried to escape whenever his ship docks.

"I only have so much patience... do not waste it."

Hell: What would be their darling’s worst experience with them?

If you're not used to it, seeing him execute another member of his crew because you happened to get along with them. He won't harm you, but another bad experience could be him locking you in a cell or marking you.

"You're mine... I'll make everyone know that."

Ideals: What kind of future do they have in mind for/with their darling?

He plans to make you his loyal mate and second-in-command. He doesn't care how it happens. Just as long as he has you as his, he's happy.

"You can have so much power... just as long as you listen well."

Jealousy: Do they get jealous? Do they lash out or find a way to cope?

Yes, while he may cope at first silently... he'll lash out if others push their luck.

"Do you really wish to test me?"

Kisses: How do they act around or with their darling?

Love letters: How would they go about courting or approaching their darling?

Obsessive, Manipulative, Controlling, Selfish, Possessive, and Slightly Caring in an attempt to understand his darling's needs.

"I will tend to you if you give me what I want in return, a deal?"

Mask: Are their true colors drastically different from the way they act around everyone else?

He'd either recruit you onto his crew (Sangheili) or take you as a prisoner (Human). You'd then reside on his ship, providing chat and giving him information on Forerunner artifacts. However... later on he begins to show some signs of... attachment.

"Hmm... you can be of good use to me, can't you?"

Naughty: How would they punish their darling?

A bit. He's certainly more attentive towards you and affectionate.

"Am I providing for you correctly? Don't hesitate to ask if you need anything."

Oppression: How many rights would they take away from their darling?

Locking you on a cell on his ship and isolating you. He may even deprive you of needs, depending on how much you've pushed him. He's serious when it comes to loyalty.

"You will learn your place on this ship... like it or not."

Patience: How patient are they with their darling?

Not many unless he has to.

"Keep up our deal... and you'll have some freedoms. Yet you'll always be mine until the end."

Quit: If their darling dies, leaves, or successfully escapes, would they ever be able to move on?

Rho is patient with his obsession, as a leader he must be. He has his limits though.

"You're lucky I like you...."

Regret: Would they ever feel guilty about abducting their darling? Would they ever let their darling go?

With time he'd move on... but it's a sore topic for him. He'd hate losing you.

"Do NOT speak of them near me, understand?"

Stigma: What brought about this side of them (childhood, curiosity, etc)?

No and no.

"Guilt? Nonsense... you belong to me."

Tears: How do they feel about seeing their darling scream, cry, and/or isolate themselves?

Curiosity is the most likely reason.

"You intrigue me... I wish to learn more."

Unique: Would they do anything different from the classic yandere?

This is more likely in a human darling, but he'd leave you be and come to check on you at times.

"Still upset, dear pet? Don't worry... you'll get used to it."

SKIPPED

Vice: What weakness can their darling exploit in order to escape?

There isn't one I can think of, unfortunately. He has his grasp pretty tight on you.

Wit’s end: Would they ever hurt their darling?

Xoanon: How much would they revere or worship their darling? To what length would they go to win their darling over?

Not usually, but it can happen.

"Learn from this, won't you? I don't like doing this with you...."

Yearn: How long do they pine after their darling before they snap?

Not really a Sangheili of faith, Rho most likely wouldn't worship his darling either. However, he'd sacrifice anything to have you.

"I am not desperate enough for worship...."

Zenith: Would they ever break their darling?

Hm... I'd say months?

"I can't stop thinking about you... what have you done to me?"

Unintentionally, maybe.

"Still quiet, are you?"

#yandere halo #yandere sangheili #yandere rho 'barutamee

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madrone33 · 3 months

Text

Listened to the Circe Saga last night! (I'm in the superior timezone, 15 hours before the americans lol /j) Absolutely incredible, did not disappoint!

Here's the notes I hastily typed out during and afterwards lol:

Puppeteer:

The plucked guitar in that melody, thinking of Polites fr fr

Eurylochus sounds less autotune than in the snippet. Musta been compression.

Fuck i can't believe i'm actually listnening to it!!!

The time skip is wind I think?

"Inside we heaard a voiiice!" SO GOOD! SO SMOOTH! I LOVE IT!

Those deep strings tho- oof so good!

"What." HAHA add it to the count XD

CIRCE! It's fucking Circe!!!! Her little riff on "Go ahead and rest where-ver you liiiike!"

The party music is really cool

Her voice at "This is the price" is angelic!

Huh. The party music comes back in the Eury and Ody second verse, but it's weirdly off beat.

Second vese is a bit different from the old snippet. Ody is less... soft sounding?

Ok time to write down the overlapping lyrics.

Yeah I still don't really understand Circe's lines rip

Also, Ody's final line is strangely not emphasised a lot? It's easy to miss behind Circe.

Wouldn't You Like:

Hermes giggles are so mischievous lmao

Ody is shocked and awed at seeing his Great-Grandfather while Hermes is just there for the lols

OOOF YES! The fucking amazing bass in the first chorus!!

The rising and descending harp!

"She can TURN you into an a-ni-mal!" I'm smiling so hard rn, it's HERMES

Here in the root of this flower! So smooooth

That high note on "bEING of your cre-A-tion!" Hell yes!

Not how I imagined that Holy Moly part ngl. Thought it'd pause for a beat to let the joke sink in with Ody's "Ah." being very dry, but whatever, it works, I'm sure I'll get used to it!

Also the beat transition to the end chorus reminds me of Micheal Jackson? Or- wait. Did I just get rick rolled??

The end chorus with all the harmonising vocals and the chorus and Ody' high riffs!! It's so damn GROOVEY

Ody sounds so happy and grateful awww

Pffft Hermes that's cold bro. So blase and teasing. Also yeah, lowkey King George vibes lol.

Done For:

The ELECTIC GUITAR!!

Ody is so sassy passive agressive lmao

The LFOs!!

The chimera roar snarl is very cool!

Ody is one cocky snarky mf

Circe is bitching and sassing and sounds so done with Hermes and Ody both lmao

The HARMONIES ON THE LAST CHORUS!!!

The LFOs and electric guitar mixing!

The sound effects of the BOSS BATTLE! The heavy thuds of footsteps and the snarls. Also that's one sharp sounding sword

There Are Other Ways:

The waltzy sounding strings are so pretty!

Que the key change! And more fantastic overlapping hamonising vocals!

The... hand- drum thing? Took me off guard, still not sure if I like it.

The abrupt "I CANT." YOU TELL HER ODY!! Bro I was so tense without know how he was gonna get out of that.

Not the Penelope stringssss!! *adoring sigh* The Penelope strings... It's so fucking cool how you can just immediately tell exactly who he's thinking about.

"She's my everything... My Penelope..." AHHHHH

Just now realising that Ody tells Circe "Back at home my wife awaits for me" and Circe respects that and helps him, while him telling Calypso that Penelope's his wife doesn't deter her in the slightest. Yeah.

"12 long years" Timeline lore? Write that down write that down!

God of Tides is such a cool epithet

The "Circe" and "mercy" rhyme took me off guard in the best of ways.

And then he hits me with the breathy high "let us puppets leeeave" like bro COME ON

Nylon strings my beloved!

CIRCE IS HELPING!!!

The deep piano drop at "Problem is, this prophet is DEAD" lmao

The return of the LFOs lesss goooo!!!!

Ody sounds so baffled and hopeful and excited like SAME BRO

"There are many ways of persuasion" as in, he managed to pursuade her in a way she didn't expect!!

"Maybe showing one act of kindness, leads to kinder souls down the road..." HOLY FUCK! HOLY FUCK! Circe's on the mercy end of the ruthlessness scale?? Also took it to mean if she shows him mercy, maybe he won't turn and become like those strangers that dealt a heavy loss to her nymphs.

"I have been in love once before" 👀 Circe lore??

"Maybe one day the world will need a puppeteer no more..." When I realised where this was going! The END FUCKING RIFF IT'S FROM THAT CLIP! THE HIGH NOTES I LOVE IT!!!!

Odysseus and Circe friendship is real!!

OMFG THE CIRCE SAGA'S OVER WHAT????

I love it! The Circe Saga is out, and it's amazing! Thank you Jorge and Talya and Troy and Armando, and everyone else who worked on this amazing project to show us this incredible music, thank you so so much! You should all be proud!

#epic the musical #epic the circe saga #immediate reactions #long post #rambles #my posts

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kaylinalexanderbooks · 2 months

Text

WIP Questionnaire

Thanks @buffythevampirelover for the tag! This game looks fun!

Rules: answer as few or as many as you'd like!

1. What was the first part of your wip that you created?

TSP: Lexi was! TSP started out as a school project, and we had to create a character sheet for our first person narrator! That was "Alexia" who is now just "Lexi" (but her full name is still Alexia).

SOTL: The concept! "School for fairy tale characters" was basically it. I got discouraged a bit when I found out this concept already existed, but that didn't mean I couldn't do my own take!

2. If your story was a TV show, what would the theme song/intro be?

My favorite types of intros for TV shows are original theme songs or very catchy instrumental music. 30-60 seconds is a good length. I'd hope that for TSP and SOTL. Hope this isn't a cop-out.

3. Who are your favourite characters you've made? Why?

TSP: My favorite characters to write for are Lexi, Gwen, Akash, Robbie, and Carmen. Lexi because the arc I gave her is an exaggerated version of something that speaks a lot to me. Gwen because I wasn't expecting her to be as interesting as she ended up being planned to be. Robbie and Akash because of how funny and sweet their dynamic is. Yes, I love them separately, but they're a package set. Carmen because she's just so damn interesting I love studying her under a microscope.

SOTL: I am barely into writing it, but it's Jack at the moment. Shocker, he has three chapters while Tierney and Úrsula have one each! But the reason is that he is average at everything, but he doesn't let that get him down! He's funny and relatable and a dork.

4. What other pieces of media do you think would share a fan base for your story?

TSP: Hm, good question. The only thing coming to mind right now is Young Justice (the cartoon). Starts out with this fun group of kids, becomes extremely dark. Ensemble cast. Sneaking around. Superpowers. Fight scenes. Drama.

SOTL: Insert fairy tale retelling here.

5. What has been your biggest struggle with your wip?

TSP: Juggling everything. The world building, I guess. Making all the characters distinct was something I struggled at for a while, but I'm getting much better at it. Trying to figure out how the world works is challenging, but I am having fun. But juggling all the moving parts to make it cohesive is a challenge.

SOTL: What is plot?!! Also battling my ambition to do every fairy tale ever. I'm gonna have to make a lot of background characters that will get their own side stories separate from the main series to get all that I want. I probably will do that.

6. Are there any animals in your story? Talk about them!

TSP: Yep! Alium has a lot of fantasy creatures, animal hybrids, and fun things I just made up. Custos the dragon is the only truly prominent one right now. He's a blue fire dragon and is adorable. I also have kitsunes. Animal hybrids include unibison, ferretsnakes, cowyotes, beaverducks. Things I made up include the elemental foxes and blue hedgehogs.

SOTL: Hofiwi is an anthropomorphic bear! She was cursed to be anthropomorphic, this is not a normal thing in this world. I love her and she's just planned at the moment. Can't wait to do more.

7. How do your characters get around? (ex: trains, horses, cars, dragons, etc.)

TSP: Hovercrafts, dragons, teleporting, trains, and some other power-based travel

SOTL: I'm still figuring this out no one has gone anywhere yet. Dragons or carriages would be cool. Maybe I can mix them with something modern to fit the setting.

8. What part of your wip are you working on rn?

TSP: World building! Specifically the power database since that will be the backbone for everything.

SOTL: Reading fairy tales... I need to do that more

9. What aspects (tropes, maybe?) of your wip do you think will draw people in?

TSP: Powers, diverse cast, queer/disability rep

SOTL: same as TSP but fairy tales!

10. What are your hopes for your wip?

If I see one (1) fanart between either my life will be complete.

This was fun!

Softly tagging @mk-writes-stuff @jezifster @blind-the-winds @little-peril-stories @sleepywriter00 @mysticstarlightduck @sarahlizziewrites @writernopal @gottestod-writes + anyone who wants to join!

TSP intro

TSP tag list (ask to be +/-): @thepeculiarbird @illarian-rambling @televisionjester @finchwrites - giving a slightly harder nudge than usual cause I really want to see what y'all have to say! Still optional obviously

Blanks below the cut!

1. What was the first part of your wip that you created?

2. If your story was a TV show, what would the theme song/intro be?

3. Who are your favourite characters you've made? Why?

4. What other pieces of media do you think would share a fan base for your story?

5. What has been your biggest struggle with your wip?

6. Are there any animals in your story? Talk about them!

7. How do your characters get around? (ex: trains, horses, cars, dragons, etc.)

8. What part of your wip are you working on rn?

9. What aspects (tropes, maybe?) of your wip do you think will draw people in?

10. What are your hopes for your wip?

#writing tag game #wip questionnaire #the secret portal #tsp #teaspoon #school of the legends #sotl #writing blog #writers on tumblr #writing community #writers of tumblr #writing on tumblr #writeblr #writeblr community

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reds-skull · 4 months

Text

Revenant Side Stories:

Story I: Konchar

[Main Fic] [AO3]

I am back! Still drowning in uni work... but I wanted to get this out of my brain first.

I had a few ideas for oneshots for Revenant AU, from the POV of other characters, expanding on events detailed in the main fic and leading to part 2.

At this point it's obvious I'm going to write part 2 (I have too many nice ideas for it haha), but I think I'll do the new AU first, since it will probably be shorter and I'm excited about it rn. While doing that, I'll add more side stories. I already got a few ideas, but if you want to see someone specific, you can suggest them!

Now, let's get to Konchar's story...

Four soldiers lay motionless on the cracked pavement of Verdansk, the British flag on their tacvest almost blending with their blood.

Konchar wipes his brow. The air is much warmer here than he remembered. It’s been only a few months since he left, since he deserted his country for an ultranationalist Russian. He breathes in deeply, the settling dust from the short battle coating his lungs.

It was far too easy to kill the Brits. None of them were Revenants, and so all they had were guns and bullets. Those stopped working on him since he died.

Konchar examines his surroundings, looking for the fifth. He remembers well what Makarov has told him, the words etched in his mind with burning fear.

“Go to Verdansk. An SAS Squad has been tasked with bringing you in, but they do not know your revenant status.” The man held Konchar close, an almost gentle touch to the way he clasped his neck and pulled him closer, if not for his next words.

“One of them will be a revenant, and he will try to kill you. You must kill him first, Kirill. It is imperative for our goal that the British revenant is dead.” The hand on his neck tightens, and Konchar’s gaze fleets to Makarov’s eyes, their flat and dead quality sucking the air out of him.

“Do you understand?”

“Yes, Commander.”

Konchar pushes off the ground, looking back at the broken bodies he left behind one last time. They’re but a necessary sacrifice for a greater good, he tells himself. He has no doubts anymore, not since he began working under the Revenant of Fate himself.

Makarov knows best.

He searches methodically, the area not unfamiliar to him. This part of the city is mostly abandoned, underfunded construction projects left unfinished after one of the many economical collapses in Kastovia sunk its claws into his country. They have suffered far too long, with the world turning a blind eye.

As per Makarov’s orders, other Konni group soldiers wired a huge amount of explosives in one of the many crumbling buildings, a trap that Konchar initially thought failed when he heard the detonation going off while he was fighting the Brits.

He’s once again proven wrong, to ever question Makarov’s insight. Perhaps the bombs have taken care of the revenant for him. Still, he must confirm the kill.

The ruins are still burning when Konchar reaches the building, and he squints at the bright flames. No one can survive that, unless they have a supernatural immunity.

A trail in the dry earth catches his attention. Brown-red blood mixed with the dirt, tilling through like someone dragged themselves away from the devastation. Konchar flexes his hands, feeling the broken concrete answer to him and follow his will.

He walks along the path, winding around broken walls, until he finds a man, and he freezes.

The man has yet to notice him. Laying on the ground, he grasps at the cracked asphalt with torn fingernails, heaving and shaking. Seems like he didn’t have an immunity after all, perhaps a healing power of sorts.

It matters not. Won’t save the revenant now.

Konchar almost takes pity on the man, and decides to pull out his pistol. He barely uses guns anymore, but he kept this for sentimentality, of all things. It reminds him of a time when he still belonged with living beings.

He takes a step closer, and the man sharply turns. Bright blue eyes, bloodshot and open wide, stare at him.

“You… you did this?”

Konchar tilts his head, “the explosion? One of my colleagues.”

The man lowers his gaze to Konchar’s pistol, “and… my squad?”

The safety clicks off, “Mine.”

The soldier stares down the barrel for a single moment, before lunging at Konchar with a growl.

“YOU FUCKIN’-”

Konchar shoots his head. The body crashes back down. He lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

His gut churns. Something feels… wrong. How did the soldier know his squad was dead?

He sighs, turning to leave. He can ponder it over on the flight back, for now, he still has to extract and relay to Makarov that the revenant is dead.

Ribbons appear out of thin air and bind him in place. Konchar frowns at them. If they’re here, that means his Reaper-

“Not dead not dead not dead NOT DEAD.”

Konchar barely swings around before the ribbons pull him forward, and from the edge of his vision he can see…

The revenant, hands bursting with fire.

An animalistic scream tears through the air, and for the first time since he was alive, Konchar feels unadulterated horror.

Konchar grasps at the concrete chunks he trailed behind him, flinging them at the rage-full soldier.

The man sneers, clawing his way through them, hands leaving charred remains as they explode the ruins to dust. Konchar has to scramble back when they swipe at him, barely getting out of their way.

The air around them burns, each inhale he takes scorches his throat. In the back of his head, Konchar knows he can win this fight. This man is no different to the tanks, the jet fighters, the armies he felled.

And yet, his body screams at him to run away. Just please, run far away.

But Makarov rings through his memories, and Konchar remembers he is a soldier, the most powerful revenant of the East.

And this man cannot be allowed to live.

Konchar drags his arms forward, bringing with him an avalanche of iron and stone and dirt, burying the unnatural flame of this hellish revenant.

But the soldier continues to burn, shatter, decimate all in his path.

That is fine. They’re in a forest of buildings. Konchar has enough ammunition to destroy dozens of revenants the likes of him.

He cannot lose this fight.

His arms burn. Not from fire but from his own powers. Pain shoots through his veins in a spidery web, in a way that would paralyze a weaker man.

Konchar started losing confidence as the minutes trickled by, as the world around him looked less and less like the city he used to know, and more like hell. And if this is hell, the revenant in front of him must be the devil himself, reigning over the broken land.

Konchar throws another building at him, only for the soldier to wave it aside as if it was nothing. The explosions blind him momentarily, and then they’re back at it, Konchar walking backwards, throwing anything he could get a grasp on, and the soldier stepping closer, eradicating and destroying.

They have moved far enough that they’re close to the inhabited parts of Verdansk. If this goes on…

Konchar cannot imagine this man stopping after he wins against him. If Konchar dies, who says he won’t continue? Who says he won’t turn the entire city to his own hellscape?

No, this is an uncontrolled force, a rabid dog. He must be put down.

Yet, Konchar feels his power waning. No one else would stand a chance against this revenant. He needs to finish this, now.

Feeling at the closest building, he knows what he must do. Even if it pains him greatly to inflict this on his own people. Konchar prays they understand, in the life after this, why he had to. Why this is the lesser of evils.

Konchar snarls and drags a spasming hand, lifting a residential building, feeling the hundreds of beating hearts race within as they yell.

He screams at the revenant, “IF YOU DON’T STOP THIS, I’LL KILL ALL OF THEM!” his face twists, voice cracking, “YOU’RE NOT GOING TO LET HUNDREDS OF INNOCENT CIVILIANS DIE, DO YOU?!”

The world slows for a heartbeat, as the revenant stills.

For a heartbeat, Konchar feels victorious.

And in the next, the revenant charges at him, an inhuman shriek breaking through his throat.

Konchar, on instinct, blocks the monster with the building.

He feels dozens of bodies break in an instance, wails suffocated by ruin, living beings silenced and cut short.

Wide eyes, Konchar can only stare as this… beast tears through human lives as if they were dirt under his feet, uncaring of their pleas.

“You… You… Monster…..” he mutters.

Something within Konchar breaks. What he’s fighting against can’t be reasoned with. This is not a soldier with honor, a revenant with a reason, a man with faith.

This, this is a horror. Destruction personified, the darkest pit of human nature.

He grabs another building, desperation boiling over as Konchar swings another set of people to certain doom. He silently begs any Reaper watching for an answer, a way to defeat this demon.

How, how could he win?! How else could he fight, how do you put out this never-ending fire?!

Tears start tracking down his face, his chin wobbles as he hears screams choke and die. He can’t do this anymore. He can’t lead any more lives to slaughter. His body is tired, he is tired.

And so, Konchar lets go.

The revenant rushes forward, path no longer blocked, and Konchar feels a strange calm washing over him.

As the monster sends its burning palm to his head, Konchar is almost glad that it will be over soon.

At least, he can rest. He won’t have to live in the same world as this beast.

Perhaps there is some humanity left to him, as Konchar’s heart twists. No, he won’t have to share a world with him, but everyone else will. And what kind of world can this devil bring, if not one of total chaos?

No. He can’t die here, to this demon. The world’s fate is on his shoulders, he MUST kill him.

“You can’t you can’t YOU CAN’T” a voice echos in his mind.

He begs, “Reaper… please. Lend me more power, let me defeat him. For the sake of the world!”

“I care not for it I care not for them I CANNOT HELP YOU.”

“Please-”

“Our deal Kirill OUR DEAL IS DONE.” his Reaper screams, “DEATH HAS COME. WE HAVE NO EARS FOR YOU NOW.”

“NO! REAPER!!!-”

As fingers curl around his skull, Konchar can feel his powers leaving him, the gift he received being pulled away.

And he remembers distant words, a false prophecy. Makarov is never wrong. It was not this revenant that was destined to die here, he realizes.

As fire brightens his vision, Konchar shuts his eyes.

And he curses, Makarov and Reapers and this monster, for letting him die.

As his skin breaks, and flames lick his bones, Konchar exhales.

And he mourns the world.

That it has to live with this man.

His head hurts, is the first coherent thought Soap can remember. It’s a sharp sort of pain, as if someone is scraping at it from the inside.

He blinks around, confused. Ruins and flames surround him. Where is he?

As Soap takes a step forward, his boots hit something. He looks down and jumps back when he understands what it is.

The body is so mangled, Soap didn’t register it at first, limbs thrown in odd angles, and its head…

Gone.

“What…” Soap mutters, automatically bringing a hand up to brush at his hair before stilling.

His breathing picks up when he watches fire dance around his fingertips, yet it doesn’t burn him.

A moth, radiant and otherworldly, lands on his outstretched hand, and Soap instantly remembers.

Bombs, explosion, Reaper. His squad, dead, him, reborn for the sake of revenge. Konchar, the bullet, and-

“No…” Soap blinks, turning around, hyperventilating.

The world stares back, broken and bleeding. In the cracks and rubble, in the remains, a message is carved for him.

“This is your doing. This? Is your fault.”

“No…!”

The flames on his hands grow bigger, twin lights of the inferno around him.

“NO!”

Soap yells, but no one answers. There is no one left to answer.

He begs and cries. He pleads to the Reapers.

“Please…not this… I didn’t… want this…..”

But his calls are left unheard.

In the hours to come, a squad will come find Soap, as they search for the missing team.

They will find no one else, nothing else but a terrible cradle, made of debris and dust, of innocent blood and splintered bones.

The birthing place of the Revenant of Destruction.

#call of duty modern warfare 2 #cod mw2 #cod soap #john soap mactavish #kirill konchar bogomolov #revenant au #call of duty fic #call of duty fanfic #call of duty modern warfare #cod fic #cod fanfic #this wont make sense unless you've read the main fic!#so if you dont feel like reading like 68k words feel free to skip this one lol #kirill my beloathed... if only you didnt listen to makarov man #this was fun to write bc i got to show how soap's enemies view him #a horrible monster :)

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gold-rhine · 1 year

Note

a little while ago you made a down with the cis bus post about scara killing teppei!! would u mind going a little deeper into how the inazuman archon quest was flawed? i think it'd be interesting :]

asdfghjk listen, that post wasn't actually a Critique, i just thought it's funny and if teppei has to die from scara's actions, we might as well both support trans wrongs and make it fun, i don't actually hate teppei or think he was the real archon quest problem haha

i would like to finish replaying inazuma questline before writing anything in depth, but things which are obvious already:

1.pacing is GARBAGE. it goes from slow to too quick to too slow to wayyy too quick to stopping in its tracks to force u on a date with ayaka on gunpoint, than again way too quick through rebellion parts. and like i'm not an ayaka hater and i know her fans love that quest, but it should've been just a separate story quest like all others. it has NOTHING to do with the story. At least Yoimiya's is connected, though I'd either separate it too or trim the fat on it a lot, but ayaka's is just what feels like several hours of meandering bullshit. i had to wait 10 minutes of real time to make cheese to make her pizza and it was just the start

2.because we had to waste hours going on dates, rebellion part moves at breakneck speed when it tries to do too many things at once: it wants to endear and make you care about common rebellion soldiers, it wants to make you feel like you're earned respect and command position of your team by them giving u trials, it wants to have a cool battle where kokomi is shown to be smart, and it wants to have fatui schemes with delusion effects shown developing gradually via teppei.

what ends up happening is that we do a lot of fetch quests, the battl is not properly set up so it ends up feeling small, and kokomi is shown kinda stupid instead of genius strategist.

3.more on kokomi. kokomi's only triumph is the win of that one battle, but its invalidated in hindsight bc she won by hiring mercenaries, but she hired them using money she blindly accepted, and they ended up being fatui's and it lead to the delusion crisis. like she didn't win bc of any great strategies, she won bc she was bankrolled and manipulated by fatui.

i think what they should have done is first of all, cut ayaka hostage situation, have the battle happen IMMEDIATELY as we arrive, have kokomi win by being brilliant and using her fish as spies or whatever, then combine the "endear and make you care about common rebellion soldiers" (rn happens before battle when u go with teppei around) and "make you feel like you're earned respect and command position of your team by them giving u trials" (now happens after trial when kokomi gives u swordfish team). teppei should just be a loser in swordfish team instead of wasting all that time at the start. then have a SECOND battle (it's a fucking war and we barely fight rn) and thats where fatui setup can happen. this way we establish kokomi as great strategist independent of fatui, make the bonding with rebellion more focused, have more cool action, and fatui schemes are still included.

4. raiden fans dont interact, biggest inazuma problem is raiden woobyfycation at the eleventh hour that immediately disregards both consequences of her actions and other character arcs, but also makes her seem as the dumbest jock in teyvat. instead of her having coherent vision, its just oh its her twin who was smart, raiden herself just didn't know that ppl have feelings, this is why she knowingly let fatui start civil war. but i think i'll talk about it later when i finish the whole inazum

#rhine talks #inazuma ranting

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ceapa-mica · 16 days

Text

Thrawn with a Foundling | Chapter 1

And at long last here is the first chapter of the fic I promised months ago! I wanted to get to know Thrawn's character well enough before actually writing fanfic. My headcanons were mere exercises. I hope my dialogue for Thrawn is on point with his "lawyer english" as my friend calls it haha

This fanfic will only have 5 chapters at max, I'm NOT planning on turning this into a big project or something so I remain ✨flexible✨

There are similarities to real life events in this one, you will probably know when you read it. I'm just trying to process a lot of bullshit happening in the world rn and I simply find comfort in writing.

PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS FOR THIS CHAPTER!

Warnings: death, so much death, death of child, blood, trauma, lots of angst

I will leave you a box of tissues here for good measure.

Word count: 2109

Taglist: @bingbongooo @dance-like-russia-isnt-watching @ele-millennial-weirdo @enaelyork @jesslove23 @thrawnalani @thrawnsboots @twincesskorisoka @davesrightshoe @shoe-bag @tearyeve @blackddarling @obbicrystaleo

Kasana was a hot mountainous desert planet in the Outer Rim. It looked dull on the surface, but it was the minerals beneath that caught the interests of more than one party. One of them being the terrifying Sharun pirates out to raid the mine which belonged to the local population. These pirates were the type who preferred negotiating with their fleet, dropping bombs on the towns to destroy and intimidate, and using their blasters and vibroblades instead of words. The other party interested in those resources was the Galactic Empire, with the Seventh Fleet receiving orders to eliminate the pirates and secure the resources.

One of those resources was a metal called doonium, which was highly valuable to the Empire as it was used to build military vessels and weapons.

Grand Admiral Thrawn, the Chiss warrior who was in charge of the entire Seventh fleet had studied the Sharun pirates’ tactics extensively and was capable of predicting their next moves. To Thrawn this battle was like many others. The enemies’ fire power was no use against the Grand Admiral’s strategies. At the end, the remains of the pirate fleet disbanded, most of their ships had turned into wrecks around the planet. Thrawn ordered a small team of specialists to search for any valuable resources on board of those wrecks while he took a shuttle to Kasarias surface to secure the doonium mine.

As the shuttle’s ramp lowered, the hot desert air hit him. He did not show any hints of the discomfort he felt. Coming from an icy planet he didn't like scorching hot temperatures, but he did what his job required him to. At least he wore a white safety helmet that protected his head from the intense sun as well. The next thing he noticed was the dust filling the air – dust mixed with smoke. The pirates had turned the entire mining village into a sea of rubble. No one uttered a word at the sight. It was dead calm. No shouts for help, no crying.

“One team searches for survivors, the other secures the mine. Look out for remaining pirates and traps. Report back to me in one hour.” Thrawn ordered in his ever calm voice. He watched the troopers disperse at his command. This was not the first destroyed village he saw, nor would it be the last. The smell of burnt flesh in the air indicated the kind of massacre that had taken place here earlier.

As Thrawn was overseeing the mission, talking to a few officers, he didn't notice he was being watched. All of a sudden, a trooper who approached him was hit by a rock. A dozen blasters aimed at the place where the rock had come from. Thrawn was capable of seeing infrared with his scarlet alien eyes, noticing a heat signature behind a pile of rubble which looked way too small to be a grown ass pirate. Perhaps it was an Ugnaught? Another rock flew in the direction of a few troopers. This time they fired exactly at the spot the rock had been thrown from. A high pitched scream filled the air that definitely did not come from an Ugnaught but a child. Thrawn raised his hand as a sign for the troopers to hold their fire.

“Sir?” one of his death troopers asked, but received no reply as Thrawn approached the pile of rubble. As he came closer he heard quiet sniffles, then, all of a sudden, a little girl ran straight toward him, hugging his leg tightly. Thrawn looked down, surprise showing on his face for a second.

“And who might you be?” he asked in a gentle yet commanding tone. The girl was crying. At closer inspection he saw that she was Pantoran. Her skin a similar shade of blue as his, with golden eyes and messy wine red hair, the color almost concealing the bleeding wound on the girl's temple which left bloodstains on his white pants.

“Why have you thrown rocks at my men?”

The girl looked up at him, sniffling and still not letting go of his leg.

“Do you understand Basic?” To that question she nodded and Thrawn was relieved. She then looked at the troopers and pointed at one of them. “They're evil.” she spoke in a voice hoarse from crying and the smoke in the air.

“My men are here to help, among other things. No harm will come to you through them.” Thrawn clarified. She let go of his leg and stood before him. By the looks of it she was malnourished and couldn't be older than five years.

“I thwew the rocks because I thought the white armored guys are evil and try to hurt you.” she explained.

“That was very brave of you, but unnecessary. See?” He patted the blaster in the holster he carried with his hand. “I can defend myself should the need arise.”

“My dad has a blaster too… Can you help me? There's something wrong with mom, dad and Rima.” She grabbed his hand to show him the way to her family, but Thrawn stopped. “I have to oversee this mission. I can send a few troopers to your aid though.”

“No no!” She was back to having a tight grip around his leg.

“Sir, shall we remove her?” an officer asked in a rough tone.

“That won't be necessary.” he declined. For a moment he thought and it made sense. The helmets the Sharun pirates wore resembled stormtrooper helmets a little bit. Of course she wouldn't trust any of his soldiers to see her family. And there was of course the similarity. Even if it was just the resemblance of the skin color, to the child it obviously was something familiar. The girl probably thought they were of the same species, as many unknowing people do. Thrawn was used to being mistaken for a Pantoran by new people he met, he never bothered to correct them. However, Thrawn understood this girl was just literally clinging to the only familiar thing to her in this wasteland and made a decision.

“How far is your family's location?”

“Not far! This way!” She grabbed his hand again, and he followed her, along with two of his death troopers. She didn't seem to mind their presence as long as Thrawn was by her side.

Thrawn assumed the place where they stopped used to be someone's home not long ago. Now all that was left of it was rubble with a few flames licking the debris here and there. The bomb that must have caused the destruction had left an actual crater where the house had stood. The girl climbed down and Thrawn carefully followed her down into the mess. She came to a halt at a hole, waving him over.

“They're down there. They don't wanna wake up!” She started crying again. Thrawn looked down into the hole, seeing a woman whose arm covered a girl a bit older than the one he found, and as he looked closer, saw half the body of a Pantoran man crushed under a thick duracrete wall. They were all covered in a thick layer of dust, the blue color of their skin was barely visible anymore.

“Mommy! Rima wake up!” the girl cried. “It's me, Huriya!” She shook her mothers lifeless body, then her sister's. As they didn't move she crawled over to her dad. “Wake up, Dad! Please wake up!”

“Huriya, come out of there. The debris is unstable, you could get buried alive under there.” Thrawn warned. “But my parents.. my sister!”

“They're gone. There's nothing you can do for them.” The scene in front of him pained Thrawn, but he didn't show it. He knew those were the harsh realities in war.

“No! I won't leave them!” She sat down next to her mother and tried to wake her up again. It dawned on Thrawn that Huriya didn't understand that death was final.

“Sir, shall we get her out of there?” one of his death troopers offered.

Thrawn regarded the scene of Huriya hugging her dead mother's body once more before he nodded. “Do it.”

As the elite troopers grabbed Huriya she screamed and squirmed in their grip, trying to get back to her family.

“Mom! Dad! No! Let me go! Help!” she screamed. As soon as they were back on the surface, Thrawn took the girl off their hands. She trembled in fear, hammering her little fists against his chest. “My family needs me! Let me down! No! You must help them!”

“I will.” Thrawn turned to his death troopers. “Cremate them, this is the least we can do.”

“Are they helping them?” Huriya asked. The tears and snot from crying mixed with the blood from her wound. The way she trembled from the trauma she just endured didn't escape Thrawn. She needed a medic immediately.

“They are helping them.” Thrawn assured her, not knowing what else to say to a five year old who went through enough trauma in one day. Comforting children was not part of his job and yet there he was, gently patting Huriya’s back on their way to the shuttle.

He noticed the officers’ looks as he returned to the shuttle with the little girl in his arms. There were no other survivors, nor captured pirates by the looks of it.

“Grand Admiral, the mine has been secured. No remaining pirates or survivors found.” the unit's Captain reported and confirmed Thrawn's assumptions.

“Well done. I will ask Moff Tarkin to send reinforcements to secure the mine and to put it back in service. Until then, one batch of troopers will remain stationed there. The ISD-Harbinger shall remain in orbit in case the remaining pirates return with… unforeseen reinforcements.”

Huriya clung tighter to Thrawn as they entered the shuttle. She watched the many new faces and helmed individuals with fear.

“What's your name?” she eventually asked as Thrawn stepped into the cockpit. The shuttle had lifted off, leaving Kasaria behind, returning to the ISD-Chimera that was waiting in the planet's orbit.

“My name is Thrawn. Grand Admiral of the Seventh Fleet, at your service.”

“Wrawn.” she tried to pronounce his name. “Where are we going? Are we getting doctors to help Mommy, Daddy and Rima wake up?” she asked with large pleading eyes.

“We will make sure you get medical treatment. That wound on your temple looks like it's getting infected. Your parents would want you to see a doctor when you're hurt, am I correct?”

Huriya thought for a moment. “Hm probably…”

The corners of Thrawn's lips twitched. “I’m sure they would. You are safe now, Huriya.”

The girl was trembling a little bit less at his comforting words and nuzzled into the soft fabric of his uniform’s collar.

As soon as they landed in the Chimera’s hangar, Huriya was put on a gurney, but she refused to let go of Thrawn's arm.

“Don't leave me with them!” Tears welled in her eyes again. “Everything is so big here, I’m scared, Wrawn!”

“The medics will take care of your wound and any other physical ailments you may have. I will leave them to their work and come to see you later.”

“Pinky promise?” She offered her pinky finger to him, a gesture he was not familiar with, but figured out anyway. “I promise.” A bit hesitant he hooked his pinky finger with hers and then watched her being brought away on the hovering gurney. He didn't like how much this little girl's fate got under his skin. He had a job to attend to, orders to give.

After changing into a fresh uniform, Thrawn was back on the bridge where he tasked one of his smartest men to find out more about Huriya’s family and if there were any relatives out there she could live with.

“Sir, I heard about the little survivor you've found. In fact the entire Seventh Fleet knows by now. Stories like that spread rapidly.” Commodore Karyn Faro, his second-in-command, told him.

“I did what any honorable warrior would have done. There is nothing else to say about it.” Thrawn said in a voice void of emotion as usual. Faro tried to hide a smile at the Grand Admiral’s attempt to downplay it.

“Your actions today certainly improved your likability among the crew if I may say so.”

Thrawn raised his brow. He didn't think much of the gossip among those under his command. He ignored Faro’s comment and gave orders to return to Lothal where his remaining fleet was stationed. He would look after the young guest once his work day was over.

Let me know what you think in comments. I hope Thrawn's dialogue fits his character? I'm not fluent in "lawyer english" so I'm worried it's not written well enough 😬

Oh and for anyone curious about the girl's name – Huriya means 'freedom' in Arabic. 💙

Thank you for reading!

#thrawn #grand admiral thrawn #mitth'raw'nuruodo #thrawn fanfiction #blue man hot #star wars rebels #star wars fanfiction #star wars

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gen-is-gone · 2 years

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having some Weird Thoughts currently about tumblr's place in the modern internet ecosystem, vis a vis twitter melting down, macebook/feta losing its shit, and a bunch of folks joining up here either for the first time in years or the first time at all.

namely, I really do believe that automattic/tumblr's current leadership is very very slowly and very very carefully implementing a bunch of changes in preparation to bring back adult content in its entirety, as part of a larger scheme to try to monetize without resorting to data scraping (which is basically impossible to do here the way it is on other sites anyway). it certainly seems like that's what they're doing, between post+, the tip jar, community labels, and the ability to make posts non-rebloggable. obviously these features have plenty of use outside of adult content (except maybe post+, which makes literally no sense outside of sex work), but what they seem to be doing is building up a logistical means by which to allow adult content, and allow it to be monetizable.

and like, no, I don't think tumblr the company is Our Best Friend; yes it is a company that needs to profit under capitalism to survive, but so is everything, and there is genuinely something funny and weird (in a very stupid, ironic way) about tumblr as a social media site operating in the 2020s. It just legitimately doesn't have the capacity to scrape data and sell targeted ads the way the giants of the modern internet do, both because it is a product of an earlier age when that wasn't yet a standard profit mechanism, and also just 'cause like. tumblr's fucking code is shit. I'm sure it's a lot better than it was circa 2012, but jokes about tumblr's legendary goof goof dildo spaghetti code used to be really common, and anyone who's been here longer than a couple months either remembers or at least has heard of just how weird and fucked up and bad the site's basic functionality used to be. Legitimately, the reason why tumblr feels so nice rn compared to the heyday is as much because it's just so genuinely more functional than it was ten years ago as it is because there's so comparatively few people.

but point being: if tumblr under yahoo had been handled with any semblance of basic competence, they might've seen which way the wind was blowing w/r/t targeted ads and data sales and we might have an entirely different, much worse hellsite than we actually have. or it probably would've died because yahoo would've actually fully ran it into the ground, more likely. but also it probably wouldn't have worked because the assumption of anonymity is so much more baked into the incredibly weird, broken, decade and half's worth of layered bullshit code that even if anyone previously could've realized that the smartest way to make money would be to scrape and sell data, they'd never have been able to implement it.

and so we have the tumblr of today: weird, unmarketable, ungovernable, proudly cringe, and deeply resistant to the mainstream. so not actually that much different to tumblr circa 2012, if a lot smaller and more battle-hardened.

but like. by the standards of what's available on the modern internet, tumblr is honestly one of the best, most versatile spaces still standing with any amount of a userbase? straight up, the dominance of twitter and instagram has made a lot of people really oddly perplexed by the concept of being able to write detailed essays in the body of a post, let alone the idea of dozens of images per post, or audio like, at all. Don't get me wrong, there are plenty of things about tumblr that I wish were different or better that just aren't compatible with how tumblr is set up at a base level as an LJ user every day I miss threaded comments and LJ-style cuts I LAMENT them I tell you, but of the options out there, tumblr is fucking wild in what it can offer. but I don't just mean for artists and fandom and weird little gremlins like those of us who've been here this whole time, I mean like. fuck. like.

watching the White House's twitter account try to lay out complex policy initiatives in 280-characters is fucking painful sometimes, and yet we've all gotten used to it in the past decade plus. leaving aside the fact that it's bonkers and deeply unsettling and generally bad that world leaders are beholden to usamerican for-profit corporations to communicate in general, of all of the socmed sites out there, it's kind of insane that twitter is the one that got big in the official political scene. (don't get me wrong: twitter is genuinely quite useful for disseminating quick bursts of information in crisis, and it's been fucking brilliant for coordinating in both natural disasters and evolving political/social disruption. but it's terrible at detailed, nuanced information sharing)

I don't know where I'm going with all of this necessarily, and I think twitter eating shit and going down in flames is pretty terrible for global democracy even as it is also on a surface level funny as shit. I don't want tumblr to replace twitter, or facebook, or insta, or tiktok, in being the place where everyone lives online. I want tumblr to stay as the little gremlin art ho fandom clown car, and lbr, it probably will. It'll probably never be what twitter is, for better or for worse. who knows if it'll ever be what it was in 2012 again. I like the ecosystem the way it is these days, with way fewer users, most of whom have been around the block more times than we can count, and are too jaded to start shit anymore. but tumblr needs money to survive, and as much as we're all enjoying posting cringe, tumblr's twitter is pulling off a masterwork balancing act luring twitter users over here, and it's working.

tumblr needs to do what it can to survive. we still don't know if all of this effort staff has been putting in these past ~10 months or so will be enough; the writing has been on the wall for years now that if tumblr doesn't find a way to financially justify itself, it won't survive another sale. automattic took a maybe unprecedented (and extremely positive, imo) risk this past year, and has been trusting current staff to listen to user input and implement positive changes, including finding ways to monetize without invading users' privacy, which who knows if the site even has the capability of doing anyway, even now. if we are all very lucky, and are willing to pitch in and treat this place like our community, we might even collectively succeed, and prove to the wider internet that it is possible to run a popular, high-traffic website without compromising user security. if tumblr is doing what I think they're doing, and very carefully building up a secure, socially, financially, and legally defensible way to support adult content on a site with american servers and a place on the app store in the 2020s, then we're off to the races and who knows where we'll go. if twitter does actually implode beyond salvaging, a huge chunk of the world will feel its loss, and many people, including all the normies and politicians and your mom, could very well cast their gaze to the website people wrote off as in its death throes four years ago. they probably won't, but as I was just vividly reminded earlier today, the White House did, in fact, have a tumblr once upon a time. who knows what the future holds.

but John Green deserves an apology, you weeaboo shits.

#tumblr #twitter #important blue checkmark #tumblr crabs #twitpocalypse #our cyberpunk future #megan whines into the empty abyss of cyberspace

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