#anyway go forth and bless what brings you joy

[rapidashrider]

The agonising feel when a character tag is full of shipping that you Simply Do Not Vibe With. The solution is, naturally, to keep scrolling. But the wince, the WINCE.

#ship what you want #but my god #the STRENGTH I must have #anyway go forth and bless what brings you joy #(but also you are wrong about it)

[qqueenofhades]

Might I request Helnink sharing their country’s winter/holiday traditions with each other?

"I don't care how traditional it is in Fjerda," Nina says warningly, putting her hands on her hips. "I am not eating lutefisk."

Matthias gives her a slightly hurt look, as if they're finally reunited (well, mostly) and working on actually reconciling, and the first thing she does is go and slander his country's terrible, terrible food. The winter solstice is an observation of particular significance to Djel -- something about the renewal of the year, the holy light returning to the fallen world after an eternity of darkness, and so forth -- and Nina would think there would be more joy and cheer to it, but of course, Fjerdans are suspicious of anything that looks too much like fun. There are other traditional foods, to be sure, some of which she might even voluntarily consume. But when it comes to lutefisk, no. She is putting her foot down.

"Fine, then," Matthias huffs. "What do they do in Ravka, then?"

"We have lots of things," Nina informs him, "that people actually like to eat. Babka, kalach, sochivo, peljmeni, tvorozhniki, just to name a few. I'd cook some for you and we could have a contest, but that might throw you into terrible religious disfavor."

Matthias throws a sour look at her, as if to point out that by virtue of deserting his homeland and his calling, his military training, his order of humorless witch-hunters and all the rest, and taking up in carnal cohabitation with a Grisha demoness, that pretty much does for any scrap of his religious favor anyway. Nina laughs, then bites her cheek, feeling slightly guilty, and pads over to put her hands on his chest. "I can, if you want," she adds. "And I'm even willing to take a stab at some Fjerdan food, but no lutefisk. What else?"

He thinks about it. "Pinnekjøtt," he says, after a moment. "It's a special rack of lamb. Same with juleribbe. And there's rice pudding with sugar and cinnamon, risengrynsgrøt. Marzipan, apples, almonds, hot spiced wine." He pauses, eyes going briefly distant. "My mother used to make marzipan candy. A long time ago. It was one of my favorite things about Yule."

"Well, then," Nina says briskly. "We'll just have to find Fjerdan marzipan somewhere in Ketterdam. If we did make a whole dinner, do you think Kaz, Jesper, and Wylan would want to come?"

Matthias snorts. His opinion of their new cohorts remains unavoidably low, though there's a grudging and very unspoken respect between him and Kaz. Jesper is always up for any party anywhere, of course, and Wylan will perforce tag along. Nina's up for eating most things, and even despite her intransigence on the issue of lutefisk, she does want to do something to make the holidays special for Matthias. They're not quite as tentative around each other as they used to be, but after how long he spent rotting in the guts of Hellgate -- it's the least she can do, that's all.

"What else?" she says. "Is there a service? Do you have to go prostrate yourself for hours in front of some frozen ash tree, or -- ?"

"Some of us," Matthias says with considerable asperity, "do still take the gods seriously. What about you?"

"Ravkans go to church, usually. Kneel in front of the icons of the saints and ask for their blessings." Nina hasn't been religious for as long as she can remember, and frankly, after what she saw the so-called Sankta Alina do in the Fold, the way she used black merzost to bring back her defunct otkazat'sya lover, she's especially suspicious of anyone or anything proclaiming to be pure and holy as sunlight. "I don't think I'll be doing that this year, though," Nina adds, half to herself. "I've never really wanted to."

Matthias briefly looks as if he is about to deliver a stern sermon on her lack of pious sentiment (truly, why does she like this man so much?) but then sighs and gives in. "All right," he says -- and look at that, the big bad druskelle, actually making compromises. Maybe there is hope for them after all. "As long as we get the food."

"Oh." Nina rises on her tiptoes to kiss him -- just on the cheek, but still, and at last, he does not flinch away. "When it comes to Nina Zenik and food, you can always count on me."

#anonymous #ask #helnik #helnik ff #sab ff #winter prompts

[yhwhrulz]

Today's Daily Encounter 30th June 2022

The Secret of Happiness “So whether you eat or drink, orwhatever you do, do it all for the glory of God."1Christopher Parkening is regarded as the world’sgreatest classical guitarist. He has played guitar with orchestras around the worldand has even played for several presidents in the White House. In addition tobeing a great musician, he is also a world-class fly-fishing champion.

Byhis own testimony, he writes, "By age 30, I’d achieved all my dreams inthe musical world, but I was tired of hotel rooms, performances and recordingsessions. It was time to go fishing, so with the money I had earned, I found mydream stream on a ranch in Montana. I bought the ranch, called my managementgroup at Colombia, and told them I had no desire to play anymore. I had earnedenough money that I didn’t need to work anyway.

"Forseveral years, I did what I wanted, but as time went by, my life became emptier.I found out that when you have everything you thought would make you happy, andit doesn’t- you start asking questions like: What’s missing?

"Whilein California visiting friends, I attended a church where I heard a sermonentitled, "Examine yourself whether you are in the faith." Thepreacher said that you could know all about Christ, the Bible, even pray toGod, and Jesus could still say, ’Depart from me, you worker of iniquity, Inever knew you.’ I was convinced if I had died that night, Jesus would have spokenthose words to me.

"So,I walked down the aisle, surrendered my life to Christ, and was baptized. Iread the Bible when I was a kid, but I never wanted a Lord to obeyunconditionally. I went home that day broken over my selfish ways.

"Thatnight, I couldn’t sleep, so I got up and started reading the Bible. Soon I cameacross 1 Corinthians 10:31 that said, "Whatever you do, do itall for the glory of God." I realized there were only two things I knewhow to do: fly fish and play guitar. I am playing the guitar today for God’sglory, and that’s what I tell my students at Pepperdine, where I teach. I nowhave peace and joy unspeakable that I never had before. My life has purpose andI’ve learned the true secret of genuine happiness!"2 Happiness is not about what wepossess, but rather what we give. The gifts God has given us are not meant onlyto bring us satisfaction, but rather to be a blessing to others. When we sharewhat God has given us and seek to bring him glory, we are fulfilling Hispurpose for our lives, and this produces true happiness. Suggested prayer: Thank you, Lord, forthe gifts you have blessed me with. Whether they are in the form of talents ormaterial possessions, I ask that you show me ways to bless others with them,and in doing so, bring honor and glory to you. My desire is to fulfill Yourpurpose for me and find true happiness that comes from you.

1 Corinthians 10:31

(NLT). www.sermoncentral.com

Today’s Encounter was written by:Crystal B.

NOTE: If you would like to accept God's forgiveness for all your sins and His invitation for a full pardon Click on: http://www.actsweb.org/invitation.php. Or if you would like to re-commit your life to Jesus Christ, please click on http://www.actsweb.org/decision.php to note this.

Daily Encounter is published at no charge by ACTS International, a non-profit organization, and made possible through the donations of interested friends. Donations can be sent at: http://www.actscom.com

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When copying or forwarding include the following: "Daily Encounter by Richard (Dick) Innes (c) 2016 ACTS International

[vidalinav]

Nessian Week Day 2: Gifts

Summary: Nesta finds the present Cassian threw in the Sidra. 

Look I can only write prompts in Cassian’s POV for some reason and he’s always a simp. I can’t make him less of a simp. I think I’m projecting my own love for Nesta Archeron, but it is what it is.

~

Cassian’s sitting in the living room, and the windows are open as well as the doors, and Nesta chooses to be outside. She wants fresh air, she says. It’s a beautiful day and Cassian can’t blame her, but he tries not to grumble in her absence. He’s stuck inside, waiting on Rhys who conveniently forgets they have a meeting today. 

It seems, Rhys would rather be with someone else... and Cassian would rather be with her. He jostles his leg impatiently, sighing every few minutes, thinking of all the ways he could be spending his time. 

At least, they’re going to a new restaurant in the city after. Cassian can’t wait and he looks to the clock as if his glare might make it tick faster. 

He’s sure after the restaurant, they’ll inevitably find themselves in bookshops. Cassian smiles at the thought. It seems they have a routine. 

One after another, they’ll peruse until he’s carrying a tower of romances. Nesta will make a game of it, he’s sure. How many can he carry before he drops them or she can’t reach the top even as he leans down? How many can she get away with before he starts complaining that his arms hurt? 

Cassian will do no such thing. Nesta should have as many books as she wants. Mother knows they have a house big enough for three hundred libraries. They can stand to have three hundred more. It will feel like three hundred books anyway, but Cassian won’t say a word. In fact, he’ll tell her she forgot to look in this aisle and jut his chin to the colorful bindings and some title that’s laughingly  scandalizing. 

Nesta will feel guilty about it later that evening though, as she always does, and so she’ll smile fondly. Gift it to him. That small, tilt of her lips, the mirth reaching her eyes. For holding all those books. Nesta will hold him closer too, because when she’s happy, she stops thinking about the city lights and the people and the noise. She keeps looking to him, tucking her hand into his, leaning her head on his arm. They’ll listen to the music as they walk, and all of it will sound sweet, and soft, but really he’ll be too distracted by her. All of her. 

Cassian sighs. He’d rather be outside with Nesta--whatever she’s doing. Anywhere but here waiting for Rhys who’s taking his damn time. 

He hears the sound of footsteps and sends a thank you to the Mother. Finally. Cassian gets up thinking it’s Rhys. He might just punch his brother for taking so long. Where have you been? He’ll screech. 

But it’s Nesta who comes trampling through one of the sliding doors. 

Better option, he thinks, and he’s about to say so, but Cassian notices the light blue fabric, the lacy edges trailed in dirt. 

Her dress is caked in mud, the bottom drenched. She has a spot of dirt on her cheek, and Cassian brushes it off as she nears, as he pulls her close. Nesta pays no mind; she only grins. A big, happy expression that he’s already named. 

Nesta only smiles like that when she’s over the moon, when the sun seemingly sinks into her chest and wants to shine from her eyes, her cheeks, her lips. Sunset hues. Peaches and blush and bright skies. Cassian feels warm to his toes, and he smiles unconsciously for she brings out the sun. 

Nesta holds up a little box and Cassian eyes it curiously. 

“I found a book!” She explains, “It’s the smallest book I’ve ever seen.” 

Cassian looks to the box again not recognizing the color. He’s sure it can't be--

But it is. She opens the box, not torn at all, and inside lays a perfectly small book. Made my tiny, fairy hands. All the pages are intact, no water or mud in sight as if it’s never seen the Sidra at all. 

Cassian holds his breath, but Nesta grins so fondly, he feels his chest start to squeeze. 

“I was just walking along the river and I saw something on the side, and... I was curious,” She says sheepishly. 

Nesta never can keep her curiosity down, and it explains her dress coated in the banks of the Sidra. He half wants to chastise for not getting him to help her. She must have climbed all the way down and he could have flown. She could have gotten hurt or carried away by the rapid tide. It’s at least a good couple of feet... but he shakes away his worry as she holds up the gift. 

He just can’t believe it. 

“So I climbed down a bit and I dug out the box! It’s perfect, isn’t it? I’m surprised the water didn’t ruin it. It must have come in with the storm last week.” 

“Where do you think it came from?” He asks, because he doesn’t know what else to say as Nesta looks at the book, flipping through the pages carefully. “Does it belong to anyone, you think?” 

It’s yours, he wants to blurt. I got it for you. It was yours all along. Just like I was. 

But Cassian doesn’t say that, he can’t make words form... and he knows where it came from. He doesn’t know what the words mean, but he know who made it. What type of material it is. How many exist in the world? Not many, but one is in her hand when it had only ever met his pocket and the sea. 

It must be some work of fae magic. A blessing from the Mother who know Nesta deserves the world... or he deserves some peace. Whatever power calls forth the tide or preserves paper in a flimsy box, he’s grateful for it. For the way, Nesta smiles like that. 

Nesta holds up her chin as if she’ll fight any person who claims it’s theirs, who tries to take it from her. A ferocious sort of gleam in her eyes. “I don’t know... but it’s mine now. I’m the one who climbed down for it. I’m caked in mud.”

Cassian’s lips raise as he wraps his arms around her waist, “I think it was definitely meant to be yours.” 

“It feels like mine,” she says softly. Nesta looks at the tiny book. It’s purple cover a sheen of old leather, stamped with unrecognizable words. She clasps it to her chest like she’s trying to burrow it away in her heart. Somewhere precious and protected behind a ribcage and a will of iron. 

All she loves is stored there. 

Cassian is there, too, he knows, because of that look she makes. That softness in her eyes, the sun in her smile. It’s reserved for him. For him and this tiny book. 

I’m yours, he thinks. 

Cassian grips her hand, pulling her towards the door. “Let’s see if we can go find a magnifying glass. Maybe we can try and read the words.” 

Nesta frowns, “I thought you had a meeting.” 

Cassian shakes his head, forgetting all about this room and Rhys and meetings. All that matters is her. “It’s not important,” he says. 

That joy, he thinks, is more important than anything. A blessing. A gift. He wonders how many times he can make her smile like that. 

Cassian doesn’t know, but he’s sure he’ll make a game of it. 

~

Tag List:

@arinbelle @my-fan-side @sophilightwood @nestaarcher0n @duskandstarlight @soitsgorgeous @swankii-art-teacher @lordof-bloodshed @thewhelk @daisy-in-danger @highqueenevankhell @lovelynesta @sirendeepity @champanheandluxxury @ladynestaarcheron @moodymelanist @teagoddess99 @spoilersteph @angelic-voice-1997 @bo0kmaster69 @drielecarla @generalnesta @cozycomfyliving08

~

The only reason I wrote this is because I was tagged on nessian week and therefore felt obligated to post something. Apparently you can get me to write anything if you give me the obligation. 

Bye! 

#nessian #nesta archeron #cassian #nessianweek2021 #nessianweek #nessian fanfiction #vidalinav writes #vidalinav fic #nessian week

[muffindaddystyles]

Hi, could you pls write something about Y/n finding out she’s pregnant and she decides not to keep the baby. Like, maybe Harry and y/n are not married (not that you have to be married to have a baby, it’s just a suggestion) and maybe Harry gets kind of mad at the beginning but then understands why she doesn’t want the baby. In every fanfiction they always end up keeping the baby, yes it’s cute, but babies take a lot of your time, they are expensive and sometimes annoying. Maybe it’s not the right time for them to be parents!! Make it extra angst pls

A/N: I agree with you, honestly it's okay for women/partner not to want kids in a relationship.

Warning: Mentions of abortion and angst.

//

Y/N just came back from one of the sleepovers of her bestfriend. It was fun, no offence but every food-ly item there made her sick to her core and atlast she ended up throwing. Ofcourse, all her girlie-bestie were there to give her a back rub, hold her hair for her, made her chamomile tea and most importantly did a serious talk to her in their pillow fort while sipping onto their hot bevy.

When Y/N told them she's been feeling like this from goodly two weeks they all gasped making Y/N's nerves jumble furthermore —--- what they advised her next flew over her head as she kept on poking her finger through the loops of her crotched cardigan, "Huh?" She hums innocently tucking her loose hair back.

"You could be pregnant. . ." Feli told her softly grabbing her hand, "Perhaps, could be sick too." Y/N scoffs diverting her eyes somewhere else and all her friends sighed in utter sympathy for her.

Y/N doesn't want to think about it at all. No way! This could happen. It's not right. It wouldn't be fair to anyone. She knows that the worst's been waiting for her as it hits her that her periods are late.

"We can find out, though . . ." Feli slides the offer cautiously to her and when Y/N shook her head in rejection everyone insisted because they care about her. So, they ended up taking the test and it indeed came out as positive now Y/N's a crying mess cuddled with her friends as they assured her that it's gonna be alright.

"I don't wanna go home . . Can't face, Harry." She whimpers. Her heart beating wildly at the cluster of assumptions and thoughts. What she'll do now? What will happen to them? What if their decision wouldn't be same? What if he'll leave her?

"You've to love, Nia will drive you home yeah? Talk to him, I'm super sure he'll understand, he's been so supportive of you since you guys met." They all hugged her warmly before departing her off and Nia told her to call her in the morning walking her to the door.

When she enters the whole house has been dimmed to mellow light just mere instinctive noises of telly buzzing and when she pads inside she's met by the most adorable sight of Harry lounged over the couch one leg dangled over the floor and his neck craned in a bad angle; it seems like he fell asleep waiting for her and Y/N was about to retreat when he stirred up calling for her name.

"Pet?" He tries to open his peepers rubbing them with the back of his hand stretching out like a lazy cat, "You look devastated pet, what happened? Were ye'cryin' baby?" She stays silent taking in large breathers nibbling onto her lower lip. He scoots aside patting the spot beside him to make her sit and grabs her jaw to see her properly.

She looks down lip wobbling as she struggled to utter the sentence, "Harry . . ." She sniffs and he nods caressing the corner of her lip, "'m listening my love –- promise it's not somethin' scary." It is for her.

"I'm pregnant." Time ticks by and it feels like the air has densed to the point her lungs stopped functioning. His thumb, it halts in their loving to her and his breaths hitches in his throat glossing his eyes with lack of oxygen or joy? She can't diminish.

He cackles breathily as if he's hallucinating and then gasps out of the epiphany, her heart shatters into million pieces for giving him fake beacon of happiness when he hugged her tightly to his chest.

"Jesus. 'M so happy darlin'!" He squeaks into the crook of her neck bouncing his knee in excitement and she pushes him away shaking her head, "No, no, no — Harry, I don't want it." Her voice wavered as her eyes held plead for him to understand fisting the hem of his sweater out of anxiousness and Harry feels like someone snatched his grounds, numbness sets into his toes from the distress that's bolting shut his heart chambers.

"Wha –-- what? But we talked 'bout it darlin'." He stammers baffled at her descion. He's too sensitive and all over the place right now, his mindset's isn't capable of doing something that's best for them and maybe it's because of all the images of his own lil baby in all the corners of his home, it would be such a blessing to have one wouldn't it? His conscience screamed at him.

"We did — " She says but he cuts her off, "Then why?" His own voice breaking and she clears her throat to pull some courage. His weakness makes her weak too.

"Let me speak." He nods curtly at her to continue.

"We did. Yes, I want kids with you, Harry nothing will be more beautiful than that but . . . but 'm not ready now, financially, mentally and physically." He stands up at this pacing back and forth massaging the furrowing lines at his temple. At his closed off and cold demeanour Y/N sobs throwing her hands in air.

"Would you speak somethin'!?" He turns in a snap. His eyesblooshot lips quirking up into a bitter frown, he's outraged and been burning from inside but doesn't want to dump it at her knowing it would hurt him more than it would hurt her. He wouldn't be able to forgive himself if he'll break the heart of his most precious human and the person who's been with him through thick n' thin.

He jeers furiously irritated at him and her, "What's there to speak? You've already made up ye'r mind, I've no say in it. Though, you know that 'm enough to raise our baby and could take care of you at the sametime." She grits something under her breath and he squints, "What?" His accent thick and gruff.

"I'm saying you're being a total, asshole!!" She tries not to yell at him groaning into the throw pillow.

She wants to kick him in shin when he just shrugged carelessly, "Okay."

"Trust me Harry not everyone's a rich millionaire like you!! I told you I'm not financially stable to have a kid and you rubbed it in my face, do you have any idea how your words were a jab to me!!" She wants to have an equal share of money in raising her kids, to give them the idea that in this household none of their parents are inferior or superior in bringing them up and she'd love for Harry to take extra care for them but his ruthless words made her feel so small and empty pocket infront of him for the first time.

She didn't notice until now that tears are dripping down his throat. Regret, remorse and guilt evident on his face but he wouldn't apologise and she's well aware of it. Wish she could hug him and kiss him to calm him down but he caused equal damage to her too.

"I'll go to clinic, in the morning." She mutters leaving him pooled into sorrow and the pricking shadow of telly while he cried to himself silently.

If it's the end. Then it should be a better one.

//

His boots click against the hard tiles getting loud hushes from people in waiting. He ducks down panting hopelessly, slamming his fist at the reception counter and looks at the nurse with furious eyes, "You're here to pick someone, sir?" He nods jutting his lips in attempt to take a good breather.

"Miss Y/N – "

She quickly points at the ward, "There, she might be unconscious at the mo'." He quickly shakes his head running towards it despite of all the stares he's getting from women of all ages.

There she was sitting at edge of bed in a gown –- looking small, defeated and devastated clutching the fabric of it from her knees. Her head perks up at the commotion taking in the sight of a disheveled Harry with a sandwich, vanilla moose, a tinsy plushie and sunflowers tucked under his armpit.

His chin quivers and eyes well up with bulky tears, "I'm sorry." He mouthes to her and she shakes her head with equally glossy eyes. He pads towards her carefully and sits beside her forwarding her the vanilla moose with shaky hand.

"Sorry couldn't get the chocolate one." A tiny sob breaks through her smile, "Don't like the vanilla anyways —" Her meeting his gaze was the ending point for him as he bunches his angel in a hug, smushing his face into the crook of her neck with little sniffles.

"It was very shitty of me." He admits tightening his arms around her waist and she calms him by rubbing his back, "We both weren't at our best last night." She whispers and he nods.

"I don't think you're any less than me baby, rather you're more stronger person than me in every way -- didn't —-- didn't wanna hurt you, promise. I love you so much for some different descion to tear us apart." His thumb runs in circles against her shoulders and she cups his face to look at him properly.

"Forgive me, please."

"I did bug —- the moment I realized you're a human being with emotions and feelings that could tipple over at their worsts. You've dreams too and I'm so sorry I wasn't able to fulfil them at the moment."

"You don't have to, yeah? No more apologising. We'll have a family when we both are ready." He kisses her temple, stroking her head affectionately and she bathes in that warmth.

"We could buy the chocolate moose on our way back home." He quips wiping his eyes with the back of his hand.

A teasing smile breaking through his caring persona and she grins, "Shut up." scooping some of it but he takes the tiny spoon from her feeding it to her himself heating her cheeks with shyness.

.

#harry angst #harry x reader #harry x y/n #harry styles one shot #harry styles requests #harry styles fanfiction #dom harry #harry styles smut #fluff #harry smut #harry styles blurb #cute harry #harry styles

[the-firebender-girl]

Fire Lord For a Day (Zuko x Reader)

-> There’s a new Fire Lord in town because Zuko lost a bet.

A few years after Zuko was crowned as the Fire Lord and ushered in a new era of peace and harmony, all is finally well between the 4 nations.

The progress of building the war-torn world back up was hard, but not impossible. Under his rule the Fire Nation work to regain its honor and clean its name, doing whatever they can to help restore what they had destroyed. And having the Avatar on his side definitely doesn’t hurt his chances too.

Besides working on the nation, he has worked hard on bettering himself, becoming a better man, someone more deserving of his title. And I think it’s safe to say that he’s well on his way there, Zuko has always been the sane one in the family, the one with a moral compass although he did get somewhat confused in the past before he found who he’s meant to be. Changing for the better is his watchword now.

That thing with Mai didn’t work out too, for the best perhaps. Although they’re compatible and have known each other since they were little, perhaps it wasn’t meant to be anything more than a simple childhood crush, but it can’t really grow past that. They crave for different things in a relationship, Mai was too emotionless, too closed-off, too cold for his taste. After living a life full of loneliness and rejection, all he needs is warmth and acceptance, a pair of welcoming arms.

Perhaps that’s why he’s immediately hooked to her. Y/N. She’s like the sunshine of his life. Her presence brings him so much joy and unconditional love. It was a chance encounter between them. Zuko was walking around the capital in disguise, watching as the world unfold and ran its course around him, how his people are living their life when he bumped into her. Nearly knocking her onto the ground, thank Agni he didn’t.

She apologized profusely when the impact caused his hood to fall back, revealing his face. She wasn’t sure of this new Fire Lord, well he did promise to be different than his ancestors but she needs actions not words. When she won’t stop repeatedly bowing even though he was clearly the one who got in her way, he frowned, and stop her mid-bow.

“You can stop doing that now, i’m okay, there’s nothing to be worried about” He said softly, assuring the poor girl.

“I’m truly sorry Fire Lord, what can I do to make it up to you?” Face still latched with worries, eyebrows tightly knitted.

“Well I still have to think about that” He pretended to contemplate it in his head, one hand positioned under his chin, “In the meantime, how about we discuss it over tea?”

“O—of course Fire Lord Zuko, anything” He can’t help but grimaced, still was not used to the title.

“Zuko please, just call me Zuko”

“Zuko...” She said, testing the name out, how he loved the sound of it.

“And what can I call you, fair lady?”

“Y/N, just Y/N”

“Okay then just Y/N, should we go now?” Zuko said, offering one of his hands for her to hold, which she took gratefully.

“By all means, lead the way Zuko” Finally letting her worries melt away, giving a way in for a smile.

———————————————————————

That was a few years ago.

Turns out that Y/N’s family is the owner of Zen Dimsum & Tea House, the most famous restaurant in the capital. Even Uncle Iroh always squeeze a visit there everytime he comes home.

“Rival only second to Jasmine Dragon itself!” That’s what he claimed.

And now she is officially his girlfriend, him asking her out was anything but romantic. Spirits know how much he lacks in the wooing department. She doesn’t seem to mind it though and said yes in a heartbeat.

She has met the Gaang on several occasions and they all love her. Even the palace servants and guards adore her too. Zuko came to the conclusion that it’s just impossible not to took a liking to her.

That’s what brought us here today. You see about a week ago Zuko had lost a bet to Y/N, and the price she asked for? being a Fire Lord for a day.

Zuko was skeptical at first of course because everything could go downhill real quick, but she assured him that she wouldn’t do anything that could put a permanent damage to his reputation, not too much anyway.

They agreed on this day for his schedule was pretty much empty, no meetings, no strategizing, no council. It’s as perfect as it can be.

Even the Gaang are here too to witness this hilarious once-in-a-blue-moon occasion. Zuko’s never known for being one to let go of the reign. But this girl somehow manages to pulled it off, oh she’s going to be the death of him for sure.

“All hail Fire Lord Y/N” Sokka said in a booming voice, as he puts the Fire Lord headpiece into her top-knot, crowning her for the day.

“All hail Fire Lord Y/N” Aang, Katara, Toph, Suki, and Ty Lee repeated back solemnly while giving an exaggerated bow.

Zuko can’t help but facepalmed himself at the scene that he’s witnessing, Fire Lord Sozin would no doubt have his head if only he were to see this.

“Ahh it feels good to be king” Y/N said, mustering her voice to be as regal as can be, but her grin definitely ruins it.

Uncle Iroh who has somehow founds himself stumbling onto this scene can’t help but let out a loud laughter.

“Now what do we have here? I must say i’m disappointed to see your reign came to an end so soon dear nephew”

Zuko lets out an exasperated groan to which everyone in the room exploded into a series of laughter, this is just too good to be true.

———————————————————————

“What will be your first decree, Your Majesty?” Sokka asked her.

The Gaang, Ty Lee, and Uncle Iroh surrounded her like an entourage, not wanting to miss out on all the fun while a grumbling Zuko trailed not too far behind them.

“Hey Iroh? do you remember when you reigned as the temporary Fire Lord?” Y/N said.

“Of course dear one, it was short but sweet, what about it?”

“I think it’s about time that we bring back what matters most to the people, I hereby declared that National Tea Appreciation Day would be permanently etched into our calendar!”

The Gaang cheer while Uncle Iroh had almost cried on spot, he shrieked happily, hugging the girl tightly.

“You are a blessing to this nation Y/N”

She smiles back at him, “Anything for you, Iroh”

“National Tea Appreciation Day it is then! Toph, mind giving me a hand on drawing the illustration for the official announcement?” Sokka said asking his poster drawing partner, just like old times in Ba Sing Se.

“You got it, boss” Toph grins back at him, giving a thumbs up.

Looking back and forth between his positively glowing uncle and the happiest the Gaang has ever been for some time, Zuko can’t help but feel the tension leaves his body.

“Maybe this won’t be so bad after all”

———————————————————————

“NO! absolutely not! you can’t change our national color to pink and peach Y/N, what do you think we are?” Zuko nearly lose his shit at this madness.

“But I think it’s brilliant, Zuko! red is sooo last centuries” Ty Lee comes to Y/N defense, sticking her tongue out to her childhood friend.

“You guys are crazy” He’s shaking his head frantically, “This nation is doomed” He dramatically said while pulling at his hair, his top-knot has hair sticking out in all directions.

“Oh knock it off, drama king. It’s just for a day! the people deserve to let loose and have some fun. You know you can always revoke it later” Y/N said, pulling her puppy dog eyes at him, lips pouting slightly.

“Please don’t do that... you’re not playing fair Y/N, you know I can’t say no to that face” Zuko grumbles, he’s trying very hard, but she got him putty in her hands.

“You know what? do what you like, it can’t get any worse than this” He said in defeat.

Oh boy if only he knew how wrong he was.

Zuko cannot recognize what he is seeing in front of his eyes. The proud Fire Nation, his nation, is now a seas of pink and peaches.

To his surprise after the announcement of Y/N’s second decree, the people responded to it giddily. They began to dress up in all sorts of pink and peach, their normal red and black outfit long forgotten. Even the usually reserved and standoffish nobles are participating in this event. Excitement buzzing in the air of the capital.

The people are rejoicing, merrily welcoming the arrival of the new ‘Fire Lord’ amidst them with the sound of cheers and clapping. Petals of flowers are thrown to the air, creating a rain of blooms in a flurry of rainbow shades. It’s nice to see them this light-hearted after living under a tyrant for soo long, the constricting rules don’t help either.

For the first time Zuko sees the people of the Fire Nation becoming one, with no clear lines separating between the nobles and the commoners, together right here and now, they are just human who longs for freedom. Freedom that Y/N just gives them, to do as one’s heart content without having to fear for their status or images.

———————————————————————

“Can we have some music over here? real music not the usual propaganda ones, I wanna hear some beat!” Y/N screamed out into the crowd that has filled the Royal Plaza.

“This one really brings the party with her doesn’t she, Sparky?” Toph said to Zuko, as together their eyes sweep over the continously growing crowd.

“Yeah... that she does” Zuko smiles fondly at his girlfriend and the way she enchants the crowd, it’s like they are gravitating towards her.

“Oh no...” Toph said again with a teasing wicked grin, she pointed her finger at him.

“You are so whipped, Sparky”

“That I am Toph, that I am...”

———————————————————————

“WOHOOOO it’s like the secret cave rave all over again!!!” Aang screamed with happiness as he crowd surf. People of all ages dancing below him.

“Aang! you get down here this instant! you’re gonna fall” Katara freaks out watching the Avatar being passed on from hands to hands. Biting her lip so hard she nearly drew blood.

“Oh let him live, Katara! loosen up, it’s a party” Suki said as she elbows her side lightly.

“Why are we just standing here? COME ON” Ty Lee said as she dragged both girls right to the middle of the crowd.

Katara’s screams of “No no no” was the last thing that can be heard before it’s swallowed by the sound of thrumming beats and off-tune singing.

———————————————————————

As the day come to an end, the party died down and people are returning to their respective home. Worn out but as happy as ever.

The Gaang is beaming, their feet light as they make their way back to the palace. Even after all of the heroic things that they had accomplished, it felt nice just to be a bunch of teenagers again.

“I’m beat you guys, i’m probably gonna sleep for the next 2 days” Aang said, pausing mid sentence to let out a yawn.

“Yup good idea, i’m gonna copy you on that” Sokka replied, entertaining the idea of just passing out on the floor right here right now, it looks so tempting. That is before Suki offers him her shoulders to lean on, shaking her head at his antics.

“Goodnight everyone” Katara said, earning back a chorus of “Goodnight” from everyone in return.

“Thanks for the awesome day Y/N” Ty Lee said as she half hugged Y/N before she too makes her way to her room.

Uncle Iroh gave Zuko and Y/N a warm smile, “Go on and rest you two, you both earned it”

“Goodnight uncle”

“Sleep well, Iroh”

———————————————————————

Back in Zuko’s bedroom, they both have cleaned up and changed into their sleepwear but decided that this is a rare moment to just enjoy each other’s presence without the usual pressure of being chased by time constraint.

“Had fun?” Zuko asked as he approaches her who is currently standing in the balcony that looks over the town below.

He wraps his arms around her as she snuggles into him, enjoying the extra warmth that he provided. Zuko leans down to press a kiss atop the crown of her head.

“I’m kinda sad that this day is over but it’s good while it lasts, I had a good run” She said while chuckling a bit at the ridiculousness of the situation. Never in a million years had she imagined this happening to her.

“You certainly made quite an impression on the people, they all adore you, not that i’m surprised it’s about time they all see you the way that I see you”

Y/N tilted her head a bit so that she can see him better, he looks handsome under the moonlight and stars, some pieces of his hair falling down lazily covering one of his eyes.

He looks at her with an intense look in his eyes, suddenly getting all serious.

“If you like it that much, it doesn’t have to end tonight you know?”

This got her letting out a scoff, “What? you’re gonna resign your position to me now?” she asked incredulously.

Zuko rolls his eyes at her, “No, you silly girl”

“How does Fire Lady sounds to you?”

Y/N swears that her heart stopped beating for a milisecond after hearing the words that just came out of her lover’s mouth.

“Are you really proposing to me right now, Fire Lord Zuko?” She said, feigning out a scandalous gasp.

“Spirits you’re dramatic aren’t you”

“You’re one to talk, Zuko”

She pretends to think about it, eyes looking upward, eyebrows scrunching creating a line in her forehead.

Now Zuko is the one who’s starting to get cold feet, what if she rejected him? what if it’s too much? too soon? how brash of him to just throw around this responsibility so carelessly. Before he can start hyperventilating, she raises her hand to cup his cheek gently, rubbing a soothing finger in a left and right motion to calm down his strung nerve.

“That sounds perfect” Sincerity evident in her voice, “I’ll be honored Zuko, if you’ll have me”

“Oh thank the spirits”

He’s in a state of euphoria, pulling her in even closer, he gently takes her face into his hands and lean down to kiss her. A slow, passionate kiss where they pour as much love as they can muster into it.

As they broke apart, Zuko takes her hand and entertwine their fingers together. Leading her back into his room and walk to the front of the vanity.

He opens one of the drawers, taking out a beautiful box decorated with carvings of dragon and fire lillies. Inside it is a gleaming piece of gold in the shape of a flame, the Fire Lady headpiece.

“May I?” He asks her.

She can only nods, emotions threatening to make her burst.

Zuko takes the headpiece and carefully inserted it into her top-knot, it sits perfectly, right where it should be.

“My Fire Lady” Zuko said as he can’t help but smile as he stares at her reflection in the mirror, leaning down to give a kiss to her cheek.

———————————————————————

The national colors went back to the normal red and black but the smiles on his people’s faces remains. Especially after hearing the official engaged-to-be-married announcement of their Fire Lord to she who has brought happiness not only to him, but to the people as well.

That day as she stood beside him from the top stair of the palace, hands waving to the cheering crowd of people below, proudly adorning the Fire Lady headpiece in her hair, Zuko thought to himself.

Yeah Uncle Iroh is never wrong, she is a blessing to this nation.

“All hail Fire Lord Zuko and Fire Lady Y/N” Uncle Iroh said, giving his salute to the new reigning monarch.

“All hail Fire Lord Zuko and Fire Lady Y/N”

———————————————————————

A/N : I’ve been very productive lately and there’s a lot more stories waiting to be finished in my draft😉 this is my second Zuko fic and as for me i’m very pleased with how it turns out but I really want to hear from you guys too soo feedbacks are definitely hoped for so that I can improve my writing♥️ anyways thank you so much for reading til the end and i’ll see you on another fic lovelies!

#aang #atla #atla aang #atla rewatch #avatar the last airbender #avatar the legend of aang #atla zuko #avatar zuko #zuko #zuko x reader #fire lord zuko #prince zuko #prince zuko fanfic #prince zuko imagine #prince zuko x reader #prince zuko x you #zuko drabble #zuko imagine #zuko smut #zuko x reader smut #atla fandom #atla fanfic #atla imagine #atla drabble #atla smut #uncle iroh #iroh & zuko #katara #sokka atla #toph beifong

[ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes]

The Love Yet Known Part 3

Summary: Tommy Shelby needs to make sacrifices to ensure the safety of his family. So he concocts a plan to marry off his sister to the one and only Alfie Solomons.

             Late that summer after everything was settled with Luca Changretta, Tommy invited Eliza and Alfie to visit Arrow House in Warwickshire. Since Tommy was the one who initiated it, he figured it would be a nice, quiet few days. Charlie clearly missed his aunt dearly. The little boy was used to always having her around to entertain him. He always asked after her and became cross when Tommy said she was married, that’s why she didn’t live with them anymore.

            “Well, when is she not going to be married?” Charlie would ask.

            Tommy just chuckled and shook his head. “I don’t think there will ever be a day when that happens, my boy.”

            No one was blind to the growing affection Eliza and Alfie had from their wedding day on. In fact, it was quite a sight to see when the two were together. Such a shy thing like Eliza had a calming effect on Alfie, who rarely seemed to be in a sour mood when she was around. Likewise, he seemed to bring Eliza out of her shell a little bit. She had many friends in Camden and found herself more active in the community than she ever imagined she would be.

            Tommy never gloated, well he tried not to, but he liked to boast about how he made the match between Eliza and Alfie.

            Still, Arthur and a few of the other Peaky boys were having a hard time accepting Alfie into their sacred spaces. They considered him their sister’s husband, not a brother-in-law. They had a petty habit of writing to Eliza and addressing it with her maiden name. Arthur felt sick to his stomach if he saw his dear sister’s name next to a name like Solomons.

            Alfie wasn’t very hospitable either. He wouldn’t let go of old habits of trying to rile Arthur up. He only ever invited a few of Eliza’s family members to visit them in Camden. None of them even knew the married couple shared a beachfront home in Margate. Alfie would shudder to think if the Shelbys got an idea of inviting themselves over for a holiday.

            But all things considered, life was going well.

 ~~~~~~~

            Alfie helped Eliza out of the car. “This place gets bigger every time I visit; I swear it does.” He muttered.

            His wife laughed softly. “Well, hopefully, you don’t get lost.”

            Charlie came running outside to greet his aunt. “Auntie Liza!”

            “Hello!” Eliza beamed and stooped down to pick her nephew up.

            “Oh, love, be careful.” Alfie winced. It was a good thing Eliza wasn’t easily irritated. Because once Alfie found out she was pregnant, he became overprotective. He insisted on carrying things for her, let her sleep in as long as she liked, and had someone come in to take over any housekeeping duties that she might’ve done. Not that Eliza was keen on keeping anything clean anyway. Alfie knew he was being annoying, but he wanted to make sure that his child and the mother of that child was well kept. He felt it was his duty to ensure their safety and health.

            Charlie gave Alfie a side-eye. “Hi, Uncle Alfie.” He said in a less jovial voice.

            “You well, Charlie?”

            “Mhm.” The little boy shrugged.

            Eliza set him down and reached for her suitcase but Alfie stepped in. “I’ve got it. Go on ahead.”

            She gave him a kiss on the cheek and followed Charlie inside to find Tommy.

~~~~~~~~~ 

            At dinner that night, it was just the four of them. Tommy, Lizzie, Alfie, and Eliza. They chatted casually about things, nothing too consequential. Then, during dessert, Eliza felt it was a good enough time to tell them.

            “So, Alfie and I have news.” Eliza reached for her husband’s hand under the table and gave him a smile.

            “You’re pregnant.” Tommy finished for her.

            Alfie’s brow furrowed. “And what on Earth gave you that impression?” He snapped. He knew how important and special it was for Eliza to tell everyone about the baby, so Alfie was a bit ticked off that Tommy had affectively ruined the moment.

            Tommy glanced up from his whiskey glass. “Am I wrong?”

            “Well…no.”

            “But how did you know?” Alfie asked again.

            “Because of the way you’ve been acting around her. Anyone could tell if they’ve known you long enough, Alfie.” Tommy answered casually. “I haven’t seen her carry anything at all today.”

            Eliza just chuckled. “Well, I didn’t know we made it that obvious.”

            “You and I will have a lot to talk about then,” Lizzie spoke up.         

            “Why? Oh…oh really?” Eliza’s eyes lit up. “You’re pregnant?”

            The two sisters-in-law got up to hug one another. Surely it was special knowing there was someone else walking a similar path. After all, it’s not like their husbands knew what it felt like.

            “Well, seems we’ll be coming around much more often then, Tom.” Alfie sighed. Well, if his wife was happy, then he would drive her back and forth from London to Warwickshire as many times as she liked.  

~~~~~~~~~

            Lizzie gave birth to Ruby when Eliza was still seven months along. Seeing and holding the baby girl in her arms was such a lovely occasion. It was almost like a hint at what was to come. It would be much more surreal though, that’s what Lizzie told her.

            “It’s so strange holding her. All of a sudden, you’ve got this little life. One you’ve waited so long to hold and she’s yours to care for and love. It’s really overwhelming.” Her sister-in-law tried to explain as best she could.

~~~~~~~~~~~

            Now all there was to do was wait a little longer. The nursery was all set up and ready. Meanwhile, the midwife was on call whenever the first signs of labor came.

            In the blistering cold of February, Eliza was due any day. Alfie started to work from home just in case she went into labor and he needed to be there for her. He didn’t get out of bed as early, but he was awake much earlier than his wife on most mornings.

            It was a peaceful time where he could just bask in the warm feelings of holding his beloved wife close to him, all cuddled up in bed. Cyril keeping their feet warm at the end of the bed. His soft breathing sometimes syncing up to Eliza’s heartbeat.

            Alfie would wrap an arm around her waist, resting a hand over her swollen stomach. There, he could feel his child kicking. The emotions that overcame him when he felt that little pressure against his hand were indescribable. He was thrilled, excited, nervous, afraid. He didn’t know how he would measure up as a father. Didn’t know how his line of work would impact the life of his child.  

            Every possible worst-case scenario had run through his head since Eliza told him she was pregnant. His worst fear was losing her and the baby. Or losing the baby and having to cope with their shared grief. Or losing Eliza and having to be a single father while grieving his wife.

            The possibilities kept him up at night, practically driving him mad with anxiety. But then there were the good thoughts. The joy he would feel when he first held his child. The pride of seeing every milestone from first words to first steps.

            It was overwhelming to think about and it didn’t help that the wait was making him even more anxious.

 ~~~~~~~~~

            But finally, the day came when Eliza gave birth to a healthy baby boy. It was a relief to hear that his wife and son were both going to be perfectly fine. As Alfie climbed the stairs to see them, he felt his hands trembling with anxiety and anticipation.

            What if he did something wrong?

            What if Eliza thought he wasn’t a good father?

            What if he just wasn’t enough?

            All the self-deprecating thoughts seemed to vanish into thin air when he saw his son swaddled in his mother’s arms.

            Eliza gave her husband a tired smile. “He’s beautiful, Alfie.” She whispered with tears in her eyes.

            Alfie walked over to the bed and peered over. “Fucking hell, look at all that hair, aye?” He chuckled with tears welling up in his eyes as well. “Look at him, he’s about as perfect as you can get, ain’t he?” He kissed Eliza’s forehead. “I can’t ever repay you for giving me such a perfect gift.”

            “I think you can with a few dozen nappy changes.” She teased back.

            “Done deal.” He grinned and gently cradled his son’s head.

            “You can hold him.”

            Alfie’s nerves pricked at him again as he sat down on the edge of the bed. Eliza gently placed the newborn in his arms, looking over him with such fondness.

            “There you are.” He said softly. “Been waiting quite some time for you, mate.”

            Eliza rested her cheek on her husband’s shoulder as he spoke to their son. “What should we name him?” She asked.

            They had passed around a few names over the course of her pregnancy but none of them particularly stood out to either of them.

            “How about Asher?”

            “Is that Jewish?” Eliza asked.

            Alfie nodded. “Means blessed. Was one of the twelve tribes of Israel, back in ancient times.”

            She smiled. Truly, she felt blessed. Not just by the birth of her son, but by everything. She had found her soulmate, fell in love with him, married him, and now produced such a beautiful little boy. Her heart felt so full in her chest. “I love it. I think it’s absolutely perfect.”

  ~~~~~~~~~~         

            A month after Asher was born, Eliza brought up the idea of bringing him to Warwickshire to meet her family. Tommy was apparently arranging a dinner to bring the whole family together. That way they could catch up on things without being busy with work and the children could all see their cousins.  

            Alfie bristled at the idea. It was one thing to spend a couple of days with just Tommy and Lizzie. But to be around the whole Shelby family, it was not a pleasant thought. He almost felt as if he’d be alone, surrounded by people who didn’t quite trust him. People he didn’t really trust either.

            “Won’t be a pleasant trip, tryna get there with a newborn.” He thought of the mistake on the fly.

            “It’ll be fine, it’s not too far and I’m sure Asher will sleep the whole way there. If he doesn’t then it isn’t the end of the world.” Eliza assumed her husband was just concerned about the baby’s sake.

            “Dunno…”

            “Then maybe we invite everyone here. It’ll be a little crowded but we’ll make it work.” She suggested to eliminate the idea of traveling.

            Having the Shelbys in his space, his territory was an even worse idea. “Tommy’s place is big enough, we ain’t gonna have that many people over here.”

            “So…” She looked at him. “Then we’ll go to Tommy’s.”

            Alfie didn’t want to outright say he didn’t want to be around her family. He was afraid it might break her heart. But he wasn’t going to pretend that it was a joy to be around them either. He stifled a groan, feeling backed into a corner for sure. “I mean…if it’ll make you happy, love.”

            “I want to see Ruby and I want everyone to meet Asher.” She replied, able to hold her ground against him when she chose to. “So yes, it would make me happy.”

            There was no arguing that. His wife’s happiness was one of the few things that mattered to him. “Alright then, we’ll go. I won’t be a bother about it.” He promised, earning a smile and a kiss from him.

~~~~~~~~~~~

            Asher slept through most of the car ride over to Warwickshire. Eliza appeared happy to be seeing her family and to introduce them to her son.

            The sun was starting to set as they entered the estate. Alfie felt on his guard as he walked in beside Eliza, already hearing the colorful language coming in from the parlor. There was laughing and yelling coming from upstairs, most likely the children playing with one another.

            Polly saw them coming in first and rushed over to embrace her niece. “Look at you. Motherhood suits you, my dear.” She turned to Alfie who was holding his son. “And there he is. Looks very healthy. You must be very proud, Alfie.”

            “Yeah.” He smiled slightly. Leave it to Polly to get on his good side even when he was tense. “He’s a lot of work, ain’t he, but it’s rewarding.”

            Polly could see the hesitation in Alfie’s eyes. He was holding Asher protectively to his chest, his eyes scanning across the room almost looking for potential threats. She decided he would have to warm up to the idea of handing his son over for anyone to hold.

            Eliza didn’t appear to catch onto her husband’s discomfort. “Alfie, I’ll take him.”

            “S’alright, love. I don’t mind.”

            “Well, let Polly hold him for a bit.” She suggested.

            “It’s alright,” Polly replied gently to her niece. “You two make yourselves at home. I’ll get you a drink, love. Alfie would you like something?”

            “No, thank you.” He replied a bit relieved that Polly hadn’t pushed the matter.

            But then Arthur swooped in and gave his sister a bear hug. “Glad you came, chey.”

            Eliza giggled and hugged him back. “Hi, Arthur.”

            “Good to see ya. Now, where’s the little one, aye?” The eldest Shelby’s eyes settled on Alfie with a look of slight distaste.

            Eliza stepped in to try and keep the atmosphere light and festive. “This is Asher, he just turned a month old.” She reached over to adjust the little cap on the newborn’s head. His dark hair was sticking out from underneath it.

            “A month already.” Arthur shook his head. “Well, wish we could’ve been there earlier.” He gave his brother-in-law a stern look. As if Alfie was purposefully keeping Eliza hidden away in Camden Town to keep her away from her family.

            “Arthur…” She sighed. But it was too late. The powder keg had already been lit.

            “Well, mate, it weren’t the easiest delivery. Eliza had to take a bit of time to recover.”

            “If Pol had been there like she wanted then maybe it wouldn’t have been so difficult.” Arthur wasn’t standing down from the challenge. In fact, he welcomed a reason to argue.

            “Arthur, that’s enough.” His aunt interrupted. “We’ve had this discussion before but it’s over. The baby’s already born.”

            But neither man listened to a voice of reason. “She had the best midwife in Camden Town there. Are you insinuating I wouldn’t get the best for me wife?”

            “I’m saying you’ve been keeping our sister from seeing her family.”

            “She’s got a mind of her own, mate, she can go wherever she wants whenever she wants.” Alfie crossed his arms over his chest.

            “Please, will you two just stop?” Eliza begged.

            “Did she have a choice when Tommy sold her off to you?” Arthur’s voice raised and Eliza knew she had to step in before the rest of the party started to take notice of the brewing storm between her brother and husband.

            “Alright, enough. You two are making a scene and it’s ridiculous.” She took Asher from Alfie’s arms when he was caught off guard and handed the baby to Polly. Before her husband could protest, she grabbed his arm and dragged him into another empty room of Arrow House.

            “You’re just going to leave him?” Alfie spat.

            “With my aunt who I trust with my life? Yes!” She snapped in an exasperated tone. “What on Earth has gotten into you? I thought this would be a nice visit, I didn’t think I had to tell you to be on your best behavior. But apparently, I should’ve because you’re acting like a child!”

            “Your brother started it!” His normally soft-spoken wife gave him a death glare. Alfie backtracked when he realized the childish response was exactly what Eliza was talking about. “I’m sorry.” He mumbled. “I just don’t like him treating me that way. Like I’m some monster who kidnapped you.”

            “Oh, Alfie.” She sighed and wrapped her arms around his neck to pull him close. “You know Arthur and you know that’s not true. You’ve given me everything and I’ve never been so happy. But we can’t make them see that. If they don’t see it then that’s their fault.” She kissed his cheek. “We know the truth.”

            He grumbled. Of course, she was right, seldom was she wrong. It just didn’t help that when they went back to the party, Arthur would still be the same. “M’trying, love.”

            “I know you are.” She smiled. “They’re difficult. But you are too.”

            He chuckled. There was no arguing that.

            “But now Asher is sort of a buffer. You just have to let them hold him.”

            Alfie looked disgruntled. He knew intuitively that none of the Shelbys would bring harm to the child. But there was still that protective instinct that he could never totally shake. If he let his guard down, bad things happened. The only time that wasn’t the case was when he was alone with Eliza and Asher. That quiet space where everything good in the world seemed to line up. Nothing outside of their warm home mattered.

            “Alright.” He relented. It seemed reasonable that if he played along, the sooner they would be out of there.

            Eliza smiled and kissed him softly. “Try to enjoy yourself.” She said before going to return to the party.

~~~~~~~~~

            Alfie followed and found Polly was still holding Asher. But Ada and Lizzie were cooing over the baby. Tommy was sat next to his aunt, holding Ruby and smiling at his new nephew. Even Arthur was nearby smiling at Asher.

            Alfie did his best not to hover even when his son was passed from relative to relative. It seemed to make Eliza happy to see her family holding her newborn. She spoke proudly about him. The meaning of his name, his blue eyes, how much Cyril adored him, and everything else that had happened in his short life.

            After a while, Alfie began to relax slightly. Although he always kept an eye out to see who was holding Asher.

            Toward the end of the night, his son was finally placed back in his arms. Asher was fast asleep despite the Shelbys having a good time with a good amount of alcohol. Alfie gently touched his cheek with his thumb. “They can be exhausting, aye?” He murmured quietly. “Better get used to it I suppose. Don’t think they’re going anywhere.”

            Asher yawned and shifted slightly in his swaddle.

            Alfie glanced up when he heard someone clear their throat. Arthur was standing nearby, a glass of whiskey in hand. “Mind if I sit?” He gestured to the empty armchair near the sofa Alfie was sitting on.

            “Ain’t my house, mate.”

            Arthur shrugged and sat down. “So, how does it feel, aye? Must get no sleep with him. And Liza, I doubt she ever gets up. Would take a train to wake her when she was younger.”

            It was a strange olive branch but Alfie chuckled. “Yeah, it’s tough tryna get her up to nurse him. S’alright though. Never been a big sleeper myself.” He admitted.

            “Yeah, war will do that to you.” Arthur agreed after a sip of whiskey.

            They were so similar, it was a wonder that they butted heads so often. They were veterans with deep scars, liked to solve problems with their fists, hardly flinched at death, and yet fiercely cared about their kin. But bad blood was hard to wash out, especially in their line of work.

            “I’d always be up with Billy when he was that young. It’s good, keeps your mind busy.” He added.

            “They’re a good distraction.” Alfie nodded, looking down at his son. “Changes a lot of perspectives on life.”

            Arthur looked across the room to see Eliza smiling at him. Of course, she’d put him up to it, insisting that if he wanted to see more of her, he would be nicer to her husband. Arthur complained but she wasn’t hearing it. It seemed that marriage and motherhood had really taught her when to put her foot down. But sitting there with his brother-in-law, Arthur seemed to realize that there wasn’t much else he could do. Here they were, both fathers to a son, both husbands. They were too old to be the vicious fighters they were as young men. It was too tiring.

            Alfie came to a similar conclusion. They could fight about the same things that happened so long ago. There wasn’t anything new to argue about. Just the grudges they both held. Which were equally as tiring. “Here.” He held Asher out.

            Arthur looked a bit surprised but decided not to make a scene out of it. He set his whiskey glass down and cradled his nephew to his chest. “Looks like Liza when she was a baby.” He chuckled. “She had so much hair. Our mother was shocked. I hope he doesn’t cry as much as she did. God, she was noisier than John ever was.” His eyes saddened at the mention of Eliza’s twin. It felt like ages ago that they’d lost John and yet, it was still so fresh.

            “That’s his middle name, you know,” Alfie said. “Asher John.”

            Arthur got a little choked up. “He’d be thrilled if he was here.” He tried to laugh off his grief but it was obvious how much it hurt. “Don’t think he’d ever stop bragging about it.”

            Eliza came over, so happy to see the two men getting along for the first time ever. She kissed Alfie’s temple as she sat down next to him.

            A quiet lull fell over the room. The warm chatter of family radiated with the fire and drinks. Alfie felt his shoulders relax while he wrapped an arm around Eliza’s shoulders. Things could be okay if he allowed them to be. So he did.

Permanent Tag: @papa-geralt-of-cirilla​ @biba3434​ @kimmietea​ @karmezii​ @enrapturedbythemoon​ @vampgirl1997​ @tarafaithe​ @evelynshelby​

PB Masterlist

#alfie solomons #alfie solomons imagine #alfie solomonsxoc #alfie solomonsxofc #tommy shelby #tommy shelbyxlizzie stark #polly gray #arthur shelby #lizzie stark #charles shelby #ruby shelby #oc #ofc #john shelby #season 4 #season 5 #tom hardy #tom hardy character #tom hardy fanfiction

[threewaysdivided]

How do you feel about the trans Danny headcanon? Not in terms of Deathly Weapons, just in general.

As a headcanon itself? I don’t personally go for it but I can see where it comes from, and I’m glad it brings people joy.

Like I mentioned in my DP & Asexuality meta-post, Danny’s half-ghost status can read as broad allegory for a bunch of potential experiences including various flavours of LGBT+ and neurodiversity. Add to that DP/FOP’s somewhat iffy tendency to use male femininity and emasculation as both punchline and source of character embarrassment for “comedy” such as it is and it’s not really surprising that both shows sometimes go tripping tail-over-teakettle right across the line into accidental-queer-coding.

That’s about as much as I can say on this one, since it isn’t a headcanon I tend to actively seek out. Baby 3WD had the misfortune to stumble into the Phandom at a time when some of the most popular circulating posts on the topic were people insisting that the interpretation “is canon” (with a very loud subtext that anyone who disagreed even slightly was an evil terrible transphobe), heavily cherry-picking the show to “prove” it, and seemingly taking glee in the idea that the headcanon would “ruin cis people’s childhoods” or make them uncomfortable, which just… seemed like a vaguely gatekeep-y, kind of mean, sort of disingenuous attitude towards fandom that I didn’t and still don’t particularly vibe with.

But, as it turns out, that's not representative of the headcanon at all! I’ve since met some really lovely users, seen some great meta-analysis about trans/queer readings of canon, and there some fantastic stories exploring the trans experience and the way being trans would alter Danny’s character and relationships. It’s kind of a universal law of the internet that even the most chill and non-toxic fandoms must be at least 5% tyre-fire by volume... and it’s just unfortunate that I happened to land right in the middle of a tyre-fire whose first impression has left me leery of wading too deep into that particular pool.

As for my own writing… I’m an asexual cis-woman whose interests lean more towards character psychology, self-esteem/self-love, platonic relationships and dealing with loss. I almost never have strong feelings or headcanons about the sexuality or gender identity (or even shipping) of characters - I kind of prefer to just take them at their word based on what they say/ show us in the story. (The only time it gets my back up is when I feel like a paid official creator is being exploitative/ dishonest/ disrespectful with their representation.)

In canon Danny identifies as male and is identified by the rest of the cast as male (even if sometimes he seems to struggle with feeling like he doesn’t live up to the “ideal of manliness” which honestly is a load of toxic bunk anyway) so I write him as a cis-guy.

Would I personally write a trans-headcanon story? Probably not. Like I said, I’m cis and - while I can listen to and sympathise with the experiences of trans people - I don’t feel like that would be my story to tell and (while I would do my best to research and be respectful if handed a canonically trans character) I wouldn’t feel confident enough in my ability to respectfully handle it to voluntarily take on that task. Especially since - when it comes to these kinds of transformative headcanons - I would personally want a story to explore how that change changes the character(s).

If someone else wants to write fic/ meta or otherwise make the case that a particular relationship or a specific queer/ cultural/ religious interpretation or reading of the text would be narratively compelling or offer interesting insights then I’m happy to hear them out. But honestly it’s just not something that I actively go looking for.

Basically, so long as people are being kind and respectful to others and doing what makes them happy then go forth and prosper with my blessing.

#Danny Phantom #Headcanons #3WD Answers #sorry if that's not a satisfying answer #But yeah #So long as you're being kind and constructive with it any headcanon is fine #Do not let me or any other fan be the arbiter of whether your thoughts/ feelings on something are valid #this is basically just a remix of the PinkAstronaut question I suppose #I'm really unhelpful when it comes to these kind of shipping and identity headcanons #here's my take as a white cis-person: #It's NOT about me #whatever my feelings are they are a Me Problem that I am responsible for dealing with #whether that's checking myself/ remembering to shut up and Listen/ working to unpack my uncomfortable sh*t IRL #Or responsibly using the back/ block/ filter buttons to curate my personal experiences in fandom #I am allowed to have personal opinions on the handling of these topics in media #but mine should not be the loudest voice in those conversations #and - frankly - no-one really has a right to gatekeep fandom for other people #least of all me #The thing that historically put me off this headcanon (and why I still tread lightly) was running into fans who used it in a gatekeepy way #Gatekeeping and trying to enforce a 'one true reading' are fandom behaviours I Categorically Dislike even when attached to progressive ideas #That's not to say that communities shouldn't self-moderate actual bad behaviour (bigotry/ harassment / plagiarism/ general toxicity) #But gainsaying another person's intentions to exclude/ shame them over a different interpretation of a fictional text is... unproductive #I tend to call that behaviour 'spite-canon-ing': where people seem to enjoy a thing more because it angers/offends/upsets someone else #than they do spending time talking about why that thing is something they like/ find valuable/ find resonant/ find important #And again: that's not on the headcanon itself - it's on the small minority of fans who chose to engage with fandom that way #So yeah #Headcanon? Fine. Canonicty? Deeply unlikely. Valid reading anyway? 100% if it brings you joy. Personal feelings on it? *Eh* #queer #anonymous

[scarletjedi]

Untitled Untamed Time Travel Fixit AU but make it Mingcheng

@piyo-13

Part 1

Part 2A

PART 2B: GUSU UNLEASHED

Nie Huaisang immediately grabs a piece of blank paper to write a message back to Nie Mingjue, leaving Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian staring at each other. “Well,” Wei Wuxian said after a minute. “Aren’t you going to write to him, too?”

Jiang Cheng startled, he’d been too caught up in Huaisang’s words, “He’s alive!”. He had been prepared to go through the process of meeting Nie Mingjue again, of hopefully catching his attention, of watching A-Jue fall for him the way Jiang Cheng had fallen years ago — that his lover was here, alive, and *knew him* had not had time to process.

Trembling, Jiang Cheng moved from his bed, weak limbs pouring him like water until he was sat up against the table, taking the paper that Huaisang handed him. He stared, blankly. What to *say*?

“Tell him you love him,” Wei Wuxian said from his bed.

“Tsk, he knows that,” Jiang Cheng said with little snap.

“Then tell him you want to fuc—”

“Ah, la la la la!” Nie Huaisang said, covering his ears, and Wei Wuxian fell back laughing. Nie Huaisang winked at him. “Be honest,” he said. “But be short,” he looked down at his own missive. “All of this needs to fit on the bird.”

Nodding, Jiang Cheng picked up his brush. After a moment, he put ink to paper, writing in quick, sure strokes. He fanned the paper back and forth a few times to dry the ink faster, and folded the note to hand to Huaisang. Huaisang took it with a grin and ran from the room to send the message back.

“What did you write?” Wei Wuxian asked.

“None of your business.”

Two days later Nie Zonghui would bring the messages to Nie Mingjue, who would open Huaisang’s note, only to have a smaller note fall free. He would pick it up with a small frown before reading Huaisang’s note, smiling — blinking, then reading the note again. “If he put nearly have the effort into studying...” he muttered and Zongui would hide a smile. Then, Mingjue would open the smaller missive, nearly dropping the paper in shock, scrambling to catch it. “Sect Leader?” Zonghui would ask, and when Nie Mingjue looked up, he would be beaming.

Now, Nie Mingjue, who had fought, lead, and won a war, lead a sect, and died a slow, agonizing descent into his greatest fears, finds himself once more at 19, newly made Section Leader, and the clearest minded he’s been in years, without the damage caused by cultivating a war and...well. He wasn’t actually sure *how* Meng Yao managed to kill him, just that he knew he had.

Which was another problem. By this point, Huaisang was safely in Cloud Recesses, but Meng Yao was on his way back to Qinghe. It would take him most of a week to return, traveling on horseback as he was, and Nie Mingjue wasn’t sure what reception Meng Yao should receive.

Meng Yao, long before he was renamed by his father, had acted in ways that were counter to the values of the Nie sect. Even if Nie Mingjue were to overlook the crimes he committed as Jin Guangyao, or the atrocities he participated in as a torturer for Wen Ruohan, his crimes began in Qinghe.

Crimes that, as far as Nie Mingjue was aware, had not yet happened. Even before Meng Yao had used the chaos of an attack to kill the captain of his guardNie, Mingjue was never sure how much Meng Yao spoke was the truth — just knew that at one point he was sure Meng Yao had never lied to him, and then was never sure Meng Yao was not lying.

In his previous life, Nie Mingjue turned most often to Lan Xichen for council, particularly wher Meng— Jin Guangyao was concerned. Then, as years passed, Xichen would turn ever more towards Jin Guangyao first, and Nie Mingjue found himself turning to Jiang Wanyin as their wartime sparring turned to tent-side comfort, to comraderie to courtship.

A-Cheng.

For all that Mingjue had more years of experience leading a sect, Wanyin’s experience was a similar enough trial by fire to grant him insight, and an outsider enough to the triumvirate to offer an outsider’s clarity.

Truly, his love possessed an uncanny wisdom hidden behind brusque words and toothless threats.

He wished for Wanyin’s council now. He wished for his presence. It had already been too long since they had last seen each other before Mingjue made his last, fateful visit to Jinlintai. It would likely be several months, if not years, before their paths would cross once more.

And— he missed his lover as a lover. Wanyin was a beautiful man, strong and proud and fierce and so sweet in private. A joy and a challenge.

Getting Huaisang’s letter was bittersweet because his didi had already suffered so much: even the first time, Mingjue had wanted Hauisang’s youth to be as worry free as possible, to have the freedom to be careless in a way Mingjue never had. And sweet, because it meant that Mingjue wasn’t alone in this.

Getting Wanyin’s message was a blessing and a curse. He had already resigned himself to wait, to reach out to the Jiang Sect in support to save Wanyin his own heartbreak, to court him properly from the beginning. To know that his love was here, and yet still so far out of reach...

Huaisang’s letter boiled down to “plan in motion. Do not engage.” Which...

“Didi,” Nie Mingjue muttered. “What are you doing?”

Because, the thing is, Mingjue would *like* to listen to Huaisang. Mingjue was tired, and doing the right thing was an increasingly difficult and murky task....but Mingjue was also a just and righteous man. Certain actions he would take no matter what...and certain actions he would not.

The facts were thus:

Meng Yao had killed him in a way that was both intensely malicious and duplicitous. (Nie Mingjue was unsure as to his motive. What did Meng Yao gain aside from petty revenge? No, the method was revenge. The act...the act was something different).

Meng Yao had not, as of yet, committed any crime, nor was he currently capable of the technique that had been used to kill Mingjue.

Nie Mingjue could not in good conscience kill a man who had committed no crime, nor could he stand by and allow another to fall off the righteous path when it was within his power to prevent. (Was it within his power?)

So, Nie Mingjue could neither punish Meng Yao for crimes he had not yet committed, nor could was he able to relax in Meng Yao’s presence the way he had the first time around.

...Maybe Huaisang had ideas.

[later] “I can’t believe this!” Huaisang glared at the letter from his brother. Jiang Cheng’s own letter sat in his pocket to be perused later. It felt almost hot, the way his focus continually drifted towards the folded paper, but he knew better than to read his lover’s letter in front of Huaisang. Not if he wanted to keep any pretense to dignity.

“What is it?” he prompted when Huaisang fell silent, re-reading furiously.

“He wants to rehabilitate Meng Yao! His own murderer!”

“Meng Yao didn’t come back with the rest of us,” Jiang Cheng offered. “He’s not the man who killed your brother. Not yet, anyway.”

“You didn’t see—” Huaisang cut himself off, looking away and biting his lip. Jiang Cheng shifted, focusing on the letter to let the heat of its presence chase away the chill of the reminder that when his lover had died, Jiang Cheng wasn’t there.

“A tiger can not change his stripes,” Nie Huaisang muttered, and hid his face behind his fan.

[The discussion over what happens to Meng Yao plays out thusly:

NHS: I don’t want to kill Meng Yao, Da-ge! I just don’t want him alive. Anymore.

NMJ: Didi, no.

NHS: Didi, yes!

Ultimately, NMJ pulls the big brother/sect leader card and says they have time to deal with Meng Yao, and since Meng Yao was currently NMJ’s problem, he would deal with it. NHS threw a tantrum that reminded everyone that yes, NHS is related to NMJ by blood, but finally went: “fine! It’s not like the *whole reason* we came back wasn’t to fuck up all of his shit!” and adjusted his plans again.]

When he goes back to his room, Jiang Cheng finds himself alone. He can bet that Wei Wuxian will be off with Lan Wangji (and no, Jiang Cheng doesn’t know why Wei Wuxian hasn’t just moved in with his boyfriend, considering how often he comes skittering into the room just on the wrong side of curfew, mussed and bruised in a very specific way that Jiang Cheng a) wants to know no more about and b)isn’t jealous of, fuck off.), so he has time to read his letter.

Cheng-er,

We never were a pair for letters, you and I, preferring to steal time for each other like a pair of romantic thieves. I regret, now, not making more time to woo and court you properly then — though I fear I already had all you could give — not desire, you showed me your hunger for me readily enough, matched only by my hunger for you — but hours of the day.

I think very fondly of our nights.

This second chance makes me desire to do better, to build you a place in my life from the start, as I hope you build a place for me. We are young, yet, and have time to hope.

I miss you, Wanyin. Cheng-er. Please write to me. A letter is a poor substitute for your fire, but I will cherish even these scraps above silence.

Yours,

A-Jue

Jiang Cheng wasn’t sure how long he was there, re-reading the letter, when Wei Wuxian tumbled in, only to stop when he caught sight of Jiang Cheng.

“Jiang Cheng! You’re pink!” Wei Wuxian crowed, pointing a finger and laughing at the way Jiang Cheng startled. “Who wrote to you to make you blush? What did he say?”

“None of your business,” Jaing Cheng snapped, tucking the letter away.

A-Jue,

Who gave you the right to write such a letter? Who would believe the NIe Sect leader to be so shameless? You can take a lesson from your brother in poetry if you are planning to continue!

Building a space — as if I did not rebuild my piers with a place for you. As if you had not already crawled into my heart to live.

I lost you once, A-Jue. I will not lose you again.

I await your next letter,

Yours, always,

Cheng-er

Jiang Cheng hands the folded paper to Nie Huaisang, face burning. For once, Nie Huaisang doesn’t tease, doesn’t give him a knowing smirk. Instead, his eyes are kind, and he takes the letter with little fanfare, tucking it neatly into his own missive to be sent off at once.

When the next letter comes, Jiang Cheng doesn’t even bother waiting, taking the letter and retreating to the sound of Nie Huaisang’s laughter.

Cheng-er

You want poetry, do you?...

Jiang Cheng’s eyes skip over the page and he gasps aloud, face burning as he looks around to see that no one else is near. To write such things! Shameless! But...oh, how it lights a fire in him, and he’s breathless with his, dizzy with sudden, frustrated want that he cannot satisfy.

In the end, Nie Mingjue was right. The words are a poor substitute, but Jiang Cheng would not trade this letter for anything.

The next morning, Jiang Cheng approaches Wei Wuxian with an idea for a long-distance communication array, one that could be personally powered and used. The reasons he gives are all to do with military strategy, but he needn’t have bothered. The challenge to create something new has Wei Wuxian distracted immediately, and he wanders off to the library mid-sentence.

The next free afternoon they have in Caiyi, Jiang Cheng purchases a wooden box, cleverly built with locking compartments and false bottoms. It is perfectly sized for folded letters.

Time passes. Now that Jiang Cheng has thirteen years of lived experience - and hard years of war and cuthroat sect politics and rebuilding his sect - the lessons aren’t easier, per say, but they have context that he missed the first time. HIs understanding is more in depth, which quickly makes him a favorite of Lan Qiren to call on — even if his actual answer (usually “threaten them with Zidian”) wasn’t the answer he provided in class. Wei Wuxian was also a calmer presence in class - still questioning, still pushing limits, but when Lan Qiren calls on Wei Wuxian to answer his questions, Wei Wuxian’s answers are thoughtful, inventive, but within the bounds of conventionality. Surprisingly, it’s Lan Wangji who suggests solutions that boarder on the heretical — solutions that Jiang Cheng knows come to pass, such as the spirit attraction flags.

It’s enough to make Lan Qiren change colors, and judging by the tiny smirk on LWJ’s face, it’s absolutely deliberate. (The one class that Lan Xichen sits in on is, actually, hilarious, as he seems consistently torn between laughter and exasperation at his brother’s small rebellion).

Nie Huaisang, however, seems to be *genuinely struggling* with the material. So much so that Jiang Cheng takes pity and drags him (and Wangxian) into the library one afternoon to actually study rather than their usual spot by the river where they would refine their plan to keep everyone alive that they actually cared about keeping alive, and killing those who needed killing as efficently as possible. (“That’s a rather blunt way of thinning about this, Jaing Cheng,” WWX said to him. JC had just shrugged. He didn’t see the reason to couch the truth in political double speak when he didn’t have to”)

After an hour or so, Nie Huaisang slumped forward over the table, thumping his forehead against he lacquered wood. “It’s no use. I’m going to have to repeat this year again, *again*”

“I don’t understand it,” Jiang Cheng said. He knew that Huaisang was smart; he figured out Jin Guangyao’s plot, he successfully modified the time travel array — Jiang Cheng was pretty sure he ran Qinghe’s spy rin duing the war, though that had never been confirmed. “I know you know things.”

“I don’t,” he wailed. “I don’t know anything. Don’t ask me.”

“I don’t mean to alarm anyone,” Wei Wuxian said, leaning in and keeping his voice low. “But we have a spy in our midst.”

“Those rumors were never proven,” Huaisang said, sniffling.

“Not you,” Wei Wuxian said, and angled his head in a way that he only thought was subtle towards where Jin Zixuan was sitting, stiff and imperious, with an exasperated Luo Qingyang. “He’s been doing that a lot,” he said.

Jiang Cheng watched him for a long moment, trying to remember the frustration he felt with a young Jin Zixuan who hadn’t yet unlearned the smug superiority of Jinlintai...but all he could see was little Jin Ling, awkward from growing up alone and desperately lonely (except Jin Ling had picked up Jiang Cheng’s bad habit of expressing any emotion as anger, and it seemed Zixuan had chosen...smug silence.)

“Aw, crap,” Jiang Cheng muttered, because as soon as he realized it, he knew what he had to do. Pushing himself up, he stalked over to Jin Zixuan, ignoring the hissed complaints of Wei Wuxian, and stared down at him, arms crossed.

“What do you want?” Jin Zixuan sneered. Behind him, Luo Qingyang rolled her eyes, and Jiang Cheng huffed.

“Cute. But you got nothing on my mother.” Jin Zixuan blinked, surprise loosening some of the stiffness in his posture. Rolling his eyes, Jiang Cheng snapped. “Look. You’re not subtle. We see you. So do you want to sit with us or not?” He looked between them. “Both of you.”

Jin Zixuan nodded, then blinked as if surprised at himself. Luo Qingyang stood to salute, but Jiang Cheng waved it off.

“Great, come on,” Jiang Cheng said, and turned around, not waiting to see if they. He sat back in his seat, shifting books to make room. He didn’t really want to sit next to Zixuan, but with Nie Huaisang sprawled over his books and Wei Wuxian practically in Lan Wangji’s lap, it was the only safe place for them.

Nie Huaisang sat back, looking at Jiang Cheng over his fan. “What?” He snapped.

“Softie,” Nie Huaisang said softly, and Jiang Cheng rolled his eyes.

“He needs to learn, and Luo Qingyang is the only one at Jinlintai right now that I trust,” he muttered.

Wei Ying squinted at Jiang Cheng, as if trying to figure something out, but when Jin Zixuan and Luo Qingyang appeared, he blinked at her, surprised, and perked up in recognition. “Mianmian!”

Which, of course, was the wrong thing to say. Jin Zixuan puffed up, and Lan Wangji hissed a pained Wei Ying, and Nie Huaisang was being no help. So, Jiang Cheng rolled his eyes again and translated.

“No offense meant, Lady Luo,” he said. “My brother’s memory for names is notoriously bad, but he means no disrespect by his over familiarity.”

Thankfully Luo Qingyang smiled. “No offence taken, Young Master Jiang. If your offer is genuine, and we are to be friends, then you may call me Mianmian.”

Jaing Cheng smiled. “Then please join us, Mianmian. I am Jiang Cheng.”

That caused everyone to look at him, and he glared. “What?! I have manners.”

“Jiang-xiong is quite a gentleman,” Nie Huaisang agreed, mildly, and Jiang Cheng narrowed his eyes. That tone always meant mischief.

“And you’re a pain in my—”

“No excess talking in the library,” Lan Wangji interrupted, staring placidly back when Nie Huaisang and Jiang Cheng both glared at him. Well, Jiang Cheng glared. Nie Huaisang pouted.

After a moment, Jin Zixuan grunted softly, as if someone had elbowed him in his ribs. He cleared his throat. “What are you working on?” he asked woodenly, as if speaking from a poorly rehearsed script. Out of the corner of his eye, Jiang Cheng saw Mianmian nod encouragingly.

“We’re trying to help Nie-xiong pass the next exam,” Wei Wuxian offered.

“Who’s we?” Jiang Cheng muttered, flipping his book open once more. “Unless sitting in Lan Wangji’s lap is a new study method.”

Nie Huaisang giggled behind his fan as Wei Wuxian squawked, reaching out to smack Jiang Cheng’s shoulder, only to be hauled back with apparent ease by Lan Wangji.

Lan Wangji who, arms wrapped securely around Wei Wuxian, stared square at Jiang Cheng and said. “It is an advanced technique.”

“Lan Zhan!” Wei Wuxian protested, going pink in the face, and Nie Huaisang’s giggles turned to outright laughter.

Jin Zixuan leaned into to Jiang Cheng. “Is it always like this?”

Jiang Cheng shrugged. “Pretty much. Those two decided shame was for other people a long time ago.”

“I...have questions,” Jin Zixuan said.

Jiang Cheng turned and looked at him. “You know, so do I. But mine might involve yelling, so the library probably isn’t the best place for them.”

(It takes a while to build up to the conversation, a few weeks until Jin Zixuan is comfortable enough to sit with them without Mianmian as a social buffer. He’s still insufferable, but more and more Jiang Cheng sees the kid he remembers from childhood visits, and even shades of the proud yet just man that he almost had a chance to fully grow into being.)

Meanwhile, something is shifting between Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji, the simmering tension between them boiling over, and Jiang Cheng is both sure that they’ve actively started fucking and and sure that he wants *absolutely nothing to do with it.* He does not want to hear it, see it, smell it — which makes it difficult when Wei Wuxian proves that he has no filter, and Lan Wangji proves he has no shame.

What had actually happened was Lan Xichen had approached Lan Wangji and said that he was glad LWJ was making friends, and hey, haven’t you been spending an awful lot of time with that Wei Wuxian kid? Don’t worry, little brother, I’ll keep Uncle off your back.” LWJ was unsure if Xichen knew that LWJ and WWX were together, but was unsure how to clarify. Every time he tried, LXC seemed to double down on his interpretation of their relationship as being the same as his with NMJ (and while NMJ thought LXC was pretty, he was more interested in Xichen’s swordplay than his *swordplay*) - and LWJ decided that the best course of action was to kiss Wei Wuxian as much as possible as often as possible.

For the record, Lan Xichen was well aware of his little brother’s inclinations, and was quite enjoying his own spot of harmless rebellion by encouraging Wangji’s shamelessness. Besides, Wei Wuxian was a good match for Wangji, and it was a relief to see Wangji smiling. Perhaps it was time to begin drafting some marital paperwork. It wouldn’t do to be caught unprepared, afterall.

He hoped they married in the spring. He always loved a spring wedding...

Somewhere, Jiang Cheng felt a chill.

NEXT TIME - THE RETURN OF THE MAIN PLOT

#mingcheng #mingcheng notefic #my fic #the untamed

[aoitrinity]

The “Me Too”

DISCLAIMER: I am about to put forth further speculation about a major Destiel-related event from this season, specifically the confession scene in 15x18. This is 100% pure speculation and I do not claim to have any insider knowledge AT ALL. If you are not in a place to read such things, please go take care of yourself instead of reading this. Do not cause yourself any additional pain. 

If you are here to be an asshole and call me delusional...uh...I mean, go for it, but like I really don’t get what that’s doing to make your life better? If shitting on people’s desire for understanding a TV show brings you joy then uh...that says more about you than it does about me?

With that out of the way...read below the cut for my theory about the “me too” line.

I know I just unloaded my theory about the finale on all of you the other day, and that I should probably give you all a break in between my bouts of theory-dumping, but I had to get this out here tonight.

If you somehow haven’t seen it yet these last few (painfully exhausting) days, there is a rumor going around of a cut in episode 15x18 of a specific line--a “me too” that Jensen supposedly recorded during the 15x18 sequence, which would have given us all textual validation not only that Cas is in love with Dean, but that Dean is in love with Cas. Various people have been trying to confirm or deny this rumor since it surfaced. We all figured it would have happened during the final scene, with Dean crying, alone. It would have been there in place of the crying, and we hypothesized that Jensen had to dub it over with AMR of his sobs. It was an interesting thought, but we had no real proof it ever happened. I, for my part, started to assume it was entirely false.

But then tonight, on the Latin American CW, we apparently discovered that in the Spanish-language dub of 15x18, they had taken Dean’s last line to Cas, “Don’t do this Cas,” and dubbed it as “yo a ti”--translated to “me too,” seemingly confirming to us that the line did exist!

I watched the clip of the dub excitedly, hoping for some secret new shot that we had been robbed of in the original episode, but the “me too” was simply dubbed over Dean’s line of “Don’t do this Cas,” which is definitely something Dean very clearly said in the original recording. That wasn’t a dub, Jensen said that line.

So what gives? Where the heck did the “me too” come from?

Well, as apparently I am wont to do recently...I talked @winchester-reload‘s ear off and was eventually hit with a stroke of realization. 

I don’t think the “me too” went in the crying scene. I think Dean said it to Cas’s face, and we were robbed of it.

Before I go any further, I want to again remind you that this is PURE SPECULATION. PLEASE JUDGE FOR YOURSELF AND ALWAYS BE SKEPTICAL.

So.

The original end of the scene runs as follows:

Dean: Why does this sound like a goodbye?

Cas: Because it is. I love you.

Dean: Don’t do this, Cas.

*a longing exchange of looks, with Cas smiling through his tears even more broadly than he was earlier*

*the Empty appears and Dean starts to panic*

Cas: Goodbye Dean.

*Cas throws Dean out the way, smiles at him one last time, and is taken*

Now that always struck me as a sort of weird exchange because...I mean, Dean can tell Cas not to “do this,” but whatever he was going to do that would get his ass taken by the Empty, he had clearly already done. But I originally handwaved it as Dean begging Cas not to go and leave him again by dying, even though it was too late, because I was too entranced with the beauty of the scene and of the performances to imagine anything otherwise.

However, after this Spanish-language dub story broke this evening, I started to wonder if the exchange had initially gone a little bit differently. 

What if the “don’t do this, Cas” was pulled from earlier in the scene? 

I would have originally imagined that it actually went between the “Because it is” and the “I love you,” but in the leaked shots of script we got a few days ago, there doesn’t seem to be any line there--Cas goes straight from his “because it is” to the “I love you.” Thus I conclude one of two things: either the line it was adlibbed or added by Jensen on the spot, between the “because it is” and the “I love you,” or it was dialogue that originally came earlier in the scene.

Either way, what matters is that I think that line, “Don’t do this, Cas,” was moved to after Cas’s “I love you” in the final cut and replaced the “me too.” I think the initial episode probably followed the Latin American dub instead, and went like this (with the one line inserted where I feel it best fits, though again, it could have come from earlier):

Dean: Why does this sound like a goodbye?

Cas: Because it is.

(Dean: Don’t do this, Cas)

Cas: I love you.

Dean: ...me too.

*a longing exchange of looks, with Cas smiling through his tears even more broadly than he was earlier*

*the Empty appears and Dean starts to panic*

Cas: Goodbye Dean.

*Cas throws Dean out the way, smiles at him one last time, and is taken*

Well.

Doesn’t that all hit a bit differently now? Doesn’t it now make sense why, after Dean’s line, Cas starts smiling more broadly than he was during the entire rest of the scene? Doesn’t it make sense now that when Dean turns to look back at the Empty emerging, there are way more tears in his eyes than there were in the prior shot? Doesn’t Dean’s body language line up better between shots if we read it this way? Doesn’t it make Cas’s sacrifice hurt both more and less at the same time, because he could go to the Empty knowing he was loved in return? That he had the one thing he wanted most? 

To me, at least, it does. 

Unfortunately, I think that, similar to what I speculate happened with the finale...they were told by the network that they had to cut Dean’s reciprocation because the CW panicked about coming off as too gay at the last moment. You can read all about that in my other post.

Anyway, here’s more food for thought. Remember @oceaxe-ifdawn’s post about how she had spoken with a cast member about how the script for the finale was being frantically rewritten in March, the weekend after they finished shooting for 15x18? Why would they suddenly have to start tossing out their own ending in MARCH? TWO WEEKS before they were supposed to start filming the finale?

What if it was because that was the moment when the network started to pivot? If their contacts on set told them how very beautifully homosexually gay the scene was, and that was the moment that the CW decided that they couldn’t risk losing a very specific (conservative, heterosexual) part of their fanbase and needed to start toning down the gay before it got out of hand? And since they couldn’t obviously go back and reshoot anything for 15x18, given everyone then immediately went into quarantine for COVID, they had to remove Dean’s reciprocation from the script and replace it with another, earlier shot, that could have FEASIBLY gone in its place. But they couldn’t take Cas’s confession because it was entirely necessary to the whole plot of the season (and that, I think, was a fucking genius move by the writers to at least get us this much--god bless you, Bobo).

And this way, the CW could actually have their cake and eat it too--they could claim they were still being accepting of queer people (look, we let Cas confess his affection for Dean!) while avoiding the potential loss of their favorite cishet male audience (whom they really want to transition to Walker after all of this is over because MONEY) that they might suffer if that audience discovered that one of their two “traditionally masculine” lead characters was in love with another man this whole time.

The only reason they didn’t carry it all off is that, when they needed to send the script over to the Spanish-language dubbers for recording, there was some sort of screw-up. They somehow forgot to have the dialogue swapped out back in March and the lines were never replaced in the dub script.

And that is how we got the “me too” line from Dean in Latin America tonight, a line that we had  heard rumors existed, but had no actual evidence of... until now.

I’m sorry to have pulled you guys into this theory with me, but... It just lines up too perfectly. Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar, yes, but sometimes that cigar is actually a dick. A big, beautiful, gay dick that your stupid homophobic TV network executives are censoring because they are afraid of the reactions of their more conservative viewership.

On the plus side, I think that this more than ever confirms that Destiel is and was always canon. Textually. Reciprocally. 110%. 

And the CW fucking robbed us of it.

#supernatural season 15 #spn finale #destiel #destielgate #speculation #fuck the cw #trust the story #we were robbed #i hate that I keep having to sound like a fucking conspiracy theorist in order to make sense of what happened #god forbid they had just KEPT TO THE FUCKING PLAN THE WRITERS HAD SO BEAUTIFULLY SCRIPTED #that would have made too much fucking sense #and been too beautiful #and too perfect #no #we had to have some fucking executive fuckery #i hate it here

[falcor-thee-luck-dragon]

hey love🥺🥺

can i request smth for aragorn pls🥺🥺 prob based on this post cus hes so crazy HOT in this but yeah everything else is up to u!! hope ur having a wonderful day<3

Yes girl here we go. I hope this is alright.

Aragorn x Elven reader - Find Me

Summary: With your elven duties done for the time being, your heart yearns for a certain Ranger as he travels in the wilds of Middle Earth.

Warning: fluff, Aragorn just being a beautiful softy

Folding your arms you look out upon the great valley of Rivendell, with her beautiful elven homes, shimmering waterfalls, and never ending ability to always have singing nearby from elven voices of pure golden honey.

You truly love this place with all of your very heart and soul, it has been your home for the past four-thousand years or so, but in the recent five-hundred have you been traveling throughout the wilds of middle earth in search of adventure. But it would just so happen that on one of your travels through a lonely mountain range did you happen to come face to face with the dirty but admittedly handsome likeness of a Ranger.

His crystal blue eyes grew wide in awe and wonder as your angelic form drew forth from the woodland, it was like all troubles and fear had vacated from his body the moment those beautiful ocean irises saw your smiling face. He was undoubtedly aware that you were in fact an elf, but his heart swelled anyways and he blessed whoever would listen for a single chance in all his lifetime to have seen your face just this once.

Though this would not be the last time you’d meet him, far from it, it just so happened that when looking upon his scruffy face did you feel an intense pull to him in a way that you couldn’t explain, nor have ever felt before. It was a strange but wonderful feeling all in one, that night would the two of you talk for hours. Leading into a week of traveling with him, this Ranger seemed content and joyous with your company.

It did not take long for feelings to grow and spark into a magnificent fire, swirling with admiration, respect, trust, and love for one another. It did not feel rushed, it felt completely right, like you had waited this long for something so pure and meaningful, and were not disappointed in the slightest.

This handsome Ranger would not utter his true name until the next time you two would meet, a year and a half later after you had to assist Elrond with something gravely important dealing with some strange pack of dwarves and a quest to claim their homeland. The things you do for that elf.

Though when you returned to the wilds, and it did take some skilled tracking, you had found him once more and still looking as dashing as ever. Though this time he greeted you with a chaste kiss, his eyes so full of love and relief for your safe return to him after such a long time apart. Under the stars, wrapped up in his arms with the light of a lowly burning fire flicking shadows across your faces. Did the Ranger tell you his name, Aragorn, your heart leapt with joy once the words had parted from his lips.

Aragorn.

You would learn of his heritage and that he was the rightful king of the great white city, so far away. But just the same you would accept him anyways, he was grateful and loved you twice as much. In the next couple years would you leave for Rivendell and your duties then return to your Ranger, staying with him for months on end, the two of you soaking up every moment together with stories, fleeting glances, laughter, and the sweetest of kisses.

Though right now, standing on a grand balcony in your true home of Rivendell do you feel that familiar pang of longing deep in your heart, you miss Aragorn more then you’d be able to say with words. But Elrond has needed you recently, claiming no other elf can slay so many orcs with such stealth and precision. Indeed a truthful compliment, and yes you’ve upheld to your duties to protect the realm, but you can’t help but feel called to your Ranger.

He misses you deeply.

You tilt your head to the sky as a light soft breeze caresses your face, you can hear the familiar patter of light footsteps as they walk down the steps behind you. Crossing the opened room, the source of the intrusion stands by your side, yet he is still a calm and comforting presence, “My dear Y/N, you have done well to protect these lands in the past couple months. But I can’t help but notice how your smile seems fleeting these days. What troubles you?”

Sighing you glance at Lord Elrond, “The Ranger.”

“Aragorn.” He says knowingly with the tiniest of smiles.

“Yes. It has been many moons since last we parted, I worry for him. But I understand that I must keep to my duties here. So I will stay.”

Elrond smiles like a kind father, “So it would appear that the world would have you two meet once again. I ask you this, Y/N. Would you find your Ranger and bring him to Rivendell, I very much would like to speak to him again.”

A small smile tugs at the corners of your lips, your heart practically leaping with joy, “I would be honored.” You laugh, “Like you had to ask my dear friend, he will not be able to hide from me. I will find him in due time.”

The old elf smiles, “I do not doubt it. Your tracking skills are rather outstanding, though your heart leads you in more ways then you know.”

“Always with the wise words,” You tease, “you’re around Gandalf too much I can tell.”

“Oh Y/N.” A small chuckle escapes him, “Maybe so....but I must tell you, your horse will be awaiting you at dawn. Your weapons and travel pack just the same, stay safe, I fear more beasts lurk around every corner these days.” He warns.

“Well, perhaps it’s a good thing I know how to use a sword. And with my bow, they’ll never see me coming.” You add with a sly grin, he nods in agreeance.

“Til we meet again, Y/N.” Finally speaks Lord Elrond handing you a small smile as he turns to leave and go about his other duties.

“Farewell.” 

In the early hours of the morning, just before the sun began her bright ascent into the clouds, did you make way for the mountain pass. Atop of your dashing steed, sword at your hip, bow held to your back, and determination in your heart.

To find your sweet Aragorn.

It had been many days, then turning into a couple weeks of riding and endless tracking before finally, finally, did your elven eyes land on a familiar boot print in the mud. A horses hoof by its side, not even three days old, he is close now. But as you take another few steps does your nose crinkle in disgust, you follow the scent to a tree where a dead orc is laying upon the ground rotting from a slice to its neck and chest.

Aragorn.

He was without a doubt here, the evidence is truly telling. You turn, quickly throwing yourself atop your horse before taking off in the direction of the tracks. Just as you’d thought, it would take about a day and a half to find him. His trail leading into the woods, a thicker more secluded wood, full of great green pines and giant ferns littering the opened ground. Sliding off of your horse, you walk around to her front, grabbing the leather reins to lead her forward into the unknown.

Not even an hour later do your pointed ears pick up the sounds of someone trying to dig out roots, if they were attempting to be quiet, mission failed. Not wanting to be made known of your presence, you leave your loyal steed by a downed log and stealthy walk your way to the source of the noise.

Is it him?

As silent as an owl in flight do you unsheathe your shimmering silver sword, it flashes in the dying sunlight as you take cautious feather light steps to a certain Ranger, he’s almost hilariously oblivious to your staring. You watch as he cuts out a thick root from the disturbed earth, you glance to your right and notice his horse, it feeds unaware to your presence.

With a smirk do you take another couple steps forward, he doesn’t even know, another step now and you’re an arms reach away. As sly as a fox do you bring your sleek blade to the side of his throat, he tenses immediately.

“What’s this? A Ranger caught off his guard?” You smirk, a mischievous tinge to your voice as he lets out a breath. His body relaxing once again as you move your blade from his throat, sheathing it once more.

A smile graces his lips as he slowly stands up, turning around to face you with those beautiful blue eyes of his, “Y/N.” You smirk at him. He’s so close now.

“Aragorn.”

You don’t have time to speak another word, for your king has captured you in his arms, blessing your lips with a warm kiss, it’s full of love, longing, and adoration. You can tell how much he’s missed you after these longs months apart, hopefully he’s able to tell how much you happen to feel the same. After another couple wonderful seconds does he pull away for breath, his hands hugging your sides close as he presses his forehead to yours.

“Meleth nin.” Whispers your Ranger, “What brings you to the wilds? I thought Lord Elrond was in grave need of you for something important?”

You smile, “That time has passed. My duties are done for now, I could not bare to keep away from you for much longer. It would have driven me mad.” He tilts his head to kiss the tip of your nose affectionately.

“You’ve blessed my soul once more, Y/N. My moon amongst the darkness, I am grateful to see your face once again.”

“Aragorn.” You speak breathlessly at his heartfelt words, you hug him tighter, a warmness blooming from deep within your chest, “Come with me back to Rivendell. Elrond has missed your company and I would very much enjoy having you close.”

“Then I am yours my lady.” He whispers lovingly into the evening air, your heart flutters with excitement.

The journey back to Rivendell felt much shorter and less lonely with your dirty faced Ranger by your side keeping you company and warm on the cool nights as you both slept underneath the thousands of dazzling stars. Soon enough your horses had made their way onto the white stone path leading into the great kingdom. Birds chirp happily from nearby as you both listen to the soft roaring of the waterfalls.

You and Aragorn ride up to the front, a long stairwell in front of you leading into a large gathering area, your horse neighs as footsteps be fall upon the pale stone steps. Your elven eyes glance up to find Lindir as he carefully walks down the steps, stopping on a flat platform just above more of the marble stairs.

“My Lady Y/N, Aragorn, it is a pleasant sight to see the both of you doing well on this fine morning.” States Lindir with a genuine smile.

You laugh, “You mean to say, it’s good that we have not been slain by goblins in the dead of night?” Aragorn chuckles from behind you as he sits upon his steed.

The elven man blinks, a small laugh escapes him, “Perhaps that was what I happened to be implying. These days we can never be to careful, terrible beasts lurking around every corner it seems.” He pauses for a moment, remembering what he came down here for, “Forgive me, I meant to ask if you’d join Lord Elrond for breakfast, he is eager to speak with Aragorn...I will have my men take care of your horses. You two must be tired, I will have baths prepared for you two at once. Excuse me for now, my friends.” Rambles Lindir as both you and Aragorn jump down from your horses, two elves coming to your aid as they take the leather reigns from each of your hands.

As they guide the loyal beasts away, you turn to take a step up the stairs, stopping to look at Aragorn, “Now you.” Your eyes trail him up and down, “definitely need a bath.”

He jogs up the steps, coming to a halt next to you, “Have you seem your face melleth nin.” He teases, though you don’t have a speck of dirt on your skin, being an elf does have its perks like that.

You laugh, “I don’t need to my love, I’m already the most radiant creature you’ve ever been lucky enough to see.” The most adorable smile breaks out upon his dirt smudged face as a light pink dusts his scruffy cheeks, even knowing you for so long are you still able to make him blush.

“Perhaps I cannot disagree there. Now let’s get something to eat.” He adds with a smile, a flash of excitement crossing his features as he thinks of actual real food. 

You playfully scoff, “And you a bath.”

“Am I not the most radiant creature in all the land?” He teases.

Rolling your eyes you let out a chuckle before continuing to walk up the stairs, “Aragorn. Come on.” He smiles while watching you lead, feeling rather blessed to have you so near once again.

——

Breakfast had been delicious without a doubt and your bath was warm and definitely needed, even if you can’t seem to get as dirty as a certain someone. Now dressed in your normal elven attire do you wander around the halls of Rivendell in search of your Ranger who has appeared to have gotten himself lost. Well not really, you’ve more so misplaced him, this kingdom is rather big after all.

Not even ten minutes later do you find him, he’s standing on the edge of a crystal blue pool, watching as some beautifully colored fish swim around the water unbothered and free. You slowly walk into the opening of the large room, taking light steps to see if you can sneak up on him again. Your breathing is low as you skillfully take your time to cross the room.

But alas your plans are foiled once he happens to glance in your direction, his blue eyes locking onto your smirking face as he takes you all in, “Were you trying to scare me?” He wonders in that velvety voice of his.

You bite your lip, taking a few more casual steps forward as you gently touch the side of his arm, “Me? Scaring you? I would never do such a thing.” You play off, he laces his arm through yours as you both begin walking towards a balcony.

“Your absence these last couple months have been more taxing then I had first realized.” Begins your sweet Aragorn, shifting the mood to a more serious tone, “But I am glad to have you now, my dear Y/N, thank you for coming back to me.”

You hand him a kind smile, “I will always come back to you, in every lifetime, you may be the most skilled hunter I have ever known. But I will always be able to find my way to you.” You lightly squeeze his bicep with your free hand, “I love you more then life, you know this.”

His eyes look to the floor for a moment, “Are you still certain?” He asks, finding your gaze once again, though you know exactly what it means.

You nod, “Without a doubt in my heart, I am.”

He brings you to the balcony overlooking all of Rivendell in all of her grand beauty, his face true as he looks deeply into your eyes, “You know what your choice means Y/N, my life may be longer then most men’s, but I don’t want you to give up your life for mine.”

You gently touch the side of his cheek, your other hand pressed against his chest as he holds onto it tightly, “Aragorn. I have lived many lifetimes on this earth, and in every one of them alone. Indeed I am very old, but I would rather be apart of yours then suffer another three thousand alone. It is not your fault that I feel this way for you, you have to understand that.”

He sighs, looking deeply into your loving eyes, “But your life here.”

Shaking your head you smile, “My true family has been sleeping in the ground since the last great war for middle earth, all I have left his Elrond. I made my choice the moment I decided to follow you into the wilds. You are all that I want, all that I care for in this life, do not push me away because you think I should live longer.”

He frowns, “I would never do that to you, I swear it. I just want you to be happy, that is all I care about.” Oh, Aragorn you sweet man.

You remove your hand from his cheek to gently hold his arm that’s wrapped around your side, “I am, and I plan to follow you to death, I don’t believe even a Balrog could make me leave your side.”

He chuckles holding you closer, “Y/N, I do not deserve you.”

You let out a quick laugh, “Definitely not.”

#aragorn x you #aragorn x reader #aragorn #middle earth x reader #middle earth imagines #middle earth imagine #king of gondor

[tanakavox]

Look into the multiverse chapter 7

DMC3 chapter! And yes I know that Yang came off as being Lady the next chapter but I decided to go Ruby. Reaction written by my friend Doppel Micheal.

The scene starts off with a door getting kicked aparted, and a shirtless Jaune walking out shirtless carrying his sword in one hand and a red jacket in the other.

Jaune gasped at seeing his image shirtless for all to see. "Augh, Cut that out! I don't want people to… uhm…." his voice faded off in embarrasment. "Aaay someone's been working out!" Yang said in a teasing tone, while Weiss sighed in annoyance. "S-shut up Yang. It's not like I'm Sun.."

"Sun does have very nice abs…" Blake whispered at that. "Pfft, you are fine Muscles boy. Isn't he Rubes?" Yang looked to Ruby, trying to get her sister to join in the teasing only to find her little sister seemed lost in thought; she was simply staring at the Jaune on the screen without saying anything. The blonde knight walked closer to her, waving a hand in front of her to try bringing her back to earth. "..." "...Ruby?" "... HUH-? Oh y-yeah. Right, you're f-.. you're alright Jaune." The short reaper was brought back down suddenly, her cheeks taking on a red shade as she seemed to avoid looking at the tall boy in any way.

A pack of demons were outside waiting for him. Jaune turns to look at the broken remains of his shop

"Damnit!" Jaune moaned. You guys totally ruined my shop! And I haven't even named it!" He snarls and turns back to the demons. "Your gotta pay for that." Jaune throws his sword into the air, doing flips and overtop movement before pulling on the red jacket , and catching the sword posing. He sneezes a bit and rubble falls down. Jaune turns and glares at the demons and points Rebellion at all the demons."I hope you all have enough to cover all this!" He growled. The blonde went to town on the demons, Shooting and blasting them to pieces with ease.

"Is this supposed to be the suicidal one's dream world where he's actually important in a fight?" Cinder snarked at the vision in front of her, sending Emerald into a fit of giggles and Mercury to mock them with delight on his voice "Oooh destroyed."

Jaune growled in annoyance. "Hey-!" "HEY!" His attempt at retorting the insult was cut short by Nora. "SHUT UP before I break your second pair of legs. I'm not afraid to do it." She finished with a glare; meanwhile Jaune felt something press on his shoulder, and turned to see Ren, a pleading look on his eyes that said 'Don't let them get to you.'

And after he was done, the bigger ones flew off, the ground splitting in half as a tower arised from the ground. Jaune looks at the tower with a grin.

"It's been nearly a year since we last met. Where does the time go?" Jaune said still grinning knowing Cinder was on top of the tower. He began to walk towards it clearly excited. "No doubt you've got something fun planned for me. Right Cinder?!"

"It's definitely the suicidal one's dream." Cinder expressed while rolling her eyes, making Emerald giggle even more. "Like I would actually care about such a small fly."

Jaune clenched his teeth and fists in frustration, before his lips curved into a smile as he looked at her "At least I actually get to put my sword through your eye this time!" Now Ruby was the one laughing as she saw all of Cinder's smug get wiped out of her, Nora cheering on from behind with yells of "YEAAAAAH tell her!"

"Y-you- if this barrier didn't exist I would tear off your-!" She couldn't finish her reply before being interrupted by Salem. "Cinder. I suggest you calm down and don't let a child get the better of you." With steam nearly coming out of her ears and a death glare sent in Jaune's direction, everyone went back to watching.

The scene cuts to Cinder looking over the town on top of the tower. Raven walked towards her.

"Raven" Cinder greets without looking back.

"Well? Doesn't it excite you? Raven asks. "The Teme-ni-gru has been revived. The great one who once ruled this earth as the medium between the human world and the demon world." Raven smiled a bit. "Isn't it a magnificent view?" The greatest mind of all their time, those who revered evil, construed this glorious edifice. Now, after two millenniums of confinement, it can at last fulfill the purpose for which it was intended…"

"That's none of my concern." Cinder said interrupting Raven. "Did he have it?"

"Of course. He's taking good care of it. After all, it is the last memento left from your mother you both lost.

"But he has no idea of its true power."

"Ewgh, I still can't believe he's related to me in this nonsense."

"The feeling is mutual" Jaune replied to the maiden, his voice full of venom, before noticing Ruby was grabbing his hand in an attempt to comfort him. "It's okay Jaune. It's not real."

"Indeed it isn't Mr Arc." He turned towards Ozpin, speaking for the first time in a while. "Keep your wits about you, none of this is worth losing your mind over."

The demon that escaped Jaune leap onto the Temen-ni gru behind Cinder and Raven. Cinder began to walk off the demon following her. She stopped and unsheathed her kanata, twirling it a bit before sheathing it. The demon upper torso being sliced in half and sliding off before it went poof! The rest of it remains falling off the Temen-ni gru.

The scene cuts to Ruby on a motorcycle, Bumblebee, with the engine still running as she looks over to Temen-ni-gru.

"I found it." She said. Demons began to slowly walk up behind Ruby. She payed them no mind and rev the engine and set the demons on fire with the exhaust port and jump over a pile of demons falling over dead into the number 3.

Ruby stared wide eyed in giddiness at her counterpart, struggling to find her voice "Is that...me?" "-driving MY bike?!" Yang wasn't so amused though.

"I didn't-I'd never! I don't even have a driver's license Yang!" She tried to calm her sister down, making Qrow chuckle at their antics. "She does rock the aesthetic, you gotta give her that." " …. I guess."

Yang crossed her arms, looking the other way while Ruby whispered in excitement. "Ye! I'm cool." Not low enough for Qrow not to hear her though. "Ha! Yeah." Nor Winter. "Indeed."

Weiss couldn't hide the shock from her face at the elder Schnee's response. "Sister?!" "What can I say, I always wanted a bike when I was your age."

The next cut goes back to Jaune walking through a icey area. He's in front of a Icey statue shake, the ice around it falling to ground. A three headed canine chained to a door, stood before Jaune and roared sending a block of ice flying toward Jaune, which he casually cut with rebellion.

"Leave now mortal!" Ceberus growled. "The likes of you are forbidden in this land! You who are powerless are not worthy here!"

Jaune was sweating bullets at the sight "That's…. A big dog…. Z-Zwei doesn't turn into anything like that right Ruby?" "What!? No! Of course she doesn't…. right Weiss?" The reaper gave her partner a hopeful, but questioning look, irritating the heiress. "Why are you looking at me? Like I would ever hurt your dog." She replied indignant, adding one last part as a whisper. "Also he looks much cuter as it is anyways."

"Wow I've never seen a talking mutt before. You know in a dog show, you'd definitely take first place." Jaune says taunting the caine.

"You, a mere human, make a mockery of me?!" Ceberus breathes a beam of ice toward Jaune, which he easily jumps over. The ice blocking the entrance he had came from.

"Easy, Fido! How about I take you for a walk? Jaune bends his knee and starts clapping and whistling. "Come puppy! Let's go!"

"You'll regret this, you worm!"

"It's showtime" Jaune grinned hopping in place and throwing a few punches in the air before gesturing at the oversized mutt. "C'mon!

A short battle happens ending with Jaune cutting off all but one of the heads of the mutt. It leaps back, in awe.

"You are not human,are you?" It asked in awe.

"Who knows? I'm not even sure myself."

"Regardless, you have proved your strength. I acknowledge your ability. Take my soul and go forth. You have my blessing. A bright light fills the area as the demon canine transforms into nunchucks with chucks, Jaune smirks and begins to test out his new weapon, twisting and twirling it around with ease to the point he twirled it with his feet.

"Ha, not bad at all scrawny. You've been going soft on us haven't you?" Jaune felt Qrow punch his shoulder lightly. "Please. Like I would ever pull something like that."

"That remains to be seen Mr Arc." Ozpin spoke yet again. "You have potential yet untapped, perhaps you should play closer attention to what a you from an alternate reality can do."

He didn't like feeling scolded, but gave some thought to what the old man said.

"Too easy." He boasts as he poses with the new weapon. He puts it away and begins to walk off when a motorcycle crashes through the ice behind him, Ruby riding it, Ruby nearly hits Jaune, him jumping out of the way at the last second. He makes eye contact with Ruby as they pass each other midair, both landing at the same time.

"Are you going to the party?" Jaune asks with a smirk. "What's the hurry, didn't you get an invitation? Ruby doesn't turn to look at Jaune and pulls out a bulkier version of Crescent rose firing a rocket at Jaune who casually duck under it and then jumps on riding it around the room, laughing with pure joy before he hops off and let's it blow a hole in the ceiling chuckling a bit.

Ruby couldn't help herself but to stare in obvious excitement and giddiness at the alternate version of her weapon, which brought some amused chuckles from Yang, before crossing her arms and feigning indifference "Hm, my version of my baby is still the best." She completed the act with sticking her tongue out at Yang.

Ruby eyes are finally show and they are filled with cold rage. She revs up her motorcycle and drives towards Jaune and hops over him, the wheel nearly hitting his face as he looks on unflinchingly. She hopped high enough to go through the new hole in the ceiling leaving Jaune alone. "This just keeps getting better and better!" Jaune smirks again as he began to walk to the next area. The scene cuts back to Cinder and Raven again, standing on top of Teme-ni-gru, the time pasting to night.

"Looks like we have an uninvited guest." Cinder states, looking out to the city below.

"Is that so?" Raven replied, flipping through her book.

"A human. A woman." Raven closes her book and sighs.

"I'm afraid I should ask the uninvited guest to leave." She stands and walks toward Cinder. "That is what you want. Actually I happened to be acquainted with that woman." Raven begans to walk off to deal with the woman. "A storm is approaching."

"Can I point out the fact I would never work with that bitch again?" Cinder pointed out with extreme contempt. "Next time I see Raven, I will kill her for what she did."

Qrow chuckled in amusement at her remark. "Because that worked really well last time huh?"

"YOU-" "Is he wrong dear?" Once again, Cinder's attempt at a retort was cut short by Salem, scowling at her protegee. Cinder simply crossed her arms and choose to stare at the floor beneath her feet in frustration. "Tch."

The scene cuts back to Jaune and a door. He gives the door a push and when that doesn't work, he runs up and kicks it. The door still doesn't budge. Jaune snarls and pulls out his pistols getting ready to shoot.

"Yoo hoo!" A voice behind him calls out merrily. Jaune turns to see a woman with pale skin and wearing a blue jester outfit. "There's no need to use violence Devil boy." Jaune ignores her and twirls his pistol getting ready to shoot anyways."Wait wait wait,better listen to what others say lad." The woman rushs in front of Jaune and points to the door with the specter she was holding. "This tower here is very study, you see." She taps the door to prove her point. "Your tricks will do you no good. No good!" Jaune points one of his pistols in her face pushing it to her nose.

"Zip it."He growled. "Or I'll pierce that big nose."

"That could be a problem" The jester moves to Jaune's side. "You've got nothing to lose,right?"

"...is this the Neon of this world?" said Yang.

Jaune never looks her in the eyes, being very annoyed at her. "My name Jester, and I know a thing or two about this place.

"Guess not." Weiss replied. "Sure gives me the same vibes though."

She points over to an object close to the blonde. "That thing there is a power generator for this entire sector. In order to open the door you need to apply a little SOMETHING to it first. You know what that is kid? Or is that too difficult for you?" Jester begins to laugh maniacally when Jaune finally had enough and started to shoot at her feet, She begins to dance crying in fears as she dodges the hail of bullets.

"Get to the point. Or do you wanna keep on dancing?" Jaune asks before stopping. Jester took a deep breath.

"Actually, I prefer a sword to be my partner. May i have this dance my lady?" She asked, taking a bow. Jaune takes out his sword rebellion and attempts to cut Jester in half, the clown dodging at the last second and instead he hits the generator opening the door. "Bingo!" Jester cheered while standing on the ceiling. "That is what something is! Remember that kid. Write down on your hand if you don't trust your head!" Jester began to laugh and started to dance away while Jaune began to shoot at her again.

"I see…. Thanks. Jaune begans walk into the next room. "You still piss me off though."

Everyone stared in silence after the scene ended. Weiss was the first to attempt speaking up "That was…" "It was something alright." Yang concluded after the heiress found herself at a loss for words. Jaune looked down, feeling very self conscious. "I'm not that cool. Kinda wished I could be.."

Again he felt Ruby's hand tug at his, and his eyes rose to meet her showing him a supportive smile. "Hey. You're plenty cool as is." She told him in a soft voice. It was immediattely followed by Nora not so gently punching his shoulder. "Yeah! You coooould stand to get a grenade launcher though." Giggles came out of him, and eventually they all erupted in laughter.

Emerald groaned at the sight. "Do you have to act so sickly happy all the time? It was enough having to put up with seeing him be such a try-hard."

"Meh, it was kinda funny." Mercury shrugged it off with a smirk. "So, what's it gonna be next?"

The end!

#look into the multiverse #devil may cry au #rwby ruby rose #blake belladonna #yang xiao long #weiss schnee #rwby jaune arc #lie ren #rwby cinder fall #rwby nora valkyrie #rwby salem #oscar pine #rwby raven branwen #rwby qrow branwen

[lilacandladybugs]

hey since youre talking about christianity, i was wondering if you could answer a question ive been curious about. if god cares about people and if jesus died for our sins, then why does hell exist? and if god cares about us then why did he let so much bad stuff happened in his name, and even cause it, like with the noah’s arch story?

sorry if any of this is wrong ive never read the bible, but ive had bad experiences with christianity in the past and the way you talk about it seems much nicer than the way i know it

I don’t think I can answer this question in a way that doesn’t come across as pretentious or like I’m asking for an argument or just being straight up unsatisfying. But I just am going to try anyway because i'm hoping that maybe this will be comforting or helpful to someone. I’m sorry if this is offensive I am really trying my best, please take this all in the best possible way and be gracious with me 

The thing about this ask is that it’s actually a bunch of different questions, and since each of them individually is really hard to answer so I’m going to narrow it down to just one ( im sorry ;-; ) . The one I’ve thought about the most is “Why does God let bad things happen if he loves us?”

When this question first really occurred to me, I was already a believer. So I was already pretty convinced that God exists logically, from the perspective of history, philosophy, science, and my personal experience. I believed in the /existence/ of the God who is represented in the scriptures. (I doubt anyone wants it but I can give you a list of resources if you want to look into any of that.) The struggle for me was whether or not all that evidence held true in the face of this moral dilemma; the problem of evil in the presence of a loving God.

But I just couldn’t turn my back on the concept of a moral grounding in God. I had a philosophy professor tell me that people are mortal and so we shouldn’t grieve them like they’re immortal, that grief is a choice, and that trauma is a choice. I respected her so much, but I just couldn’t accept that. There’s nothing more unsettling to me than suggesting that cruelty and death and suffering are only wrong because you think they are, and not because they’re violating sacred ancient laws. My friends dying, people hurting me, that isn’t just in my head. It’s /real/. They’re really dead, and it really matters. People really did something wrong when they hurt me, and it isn’t my fault for being hurt. It’s their fault for being cruel. And their cruelty is objectively morally wrong.

I realized that if I became an atheist I would have to accept the fact that there isn’t /objectively/ any difference between right and wrong. There isn’t any theoretical “right way” that the world should be. But to me, there is a right way it should be. There is a right way and it was lost because of sin.

It was I guess comforting that Christianity provided the premises I needed to ask a question like this. Evil exists. And love exists. So how can God exist? What a comforting question, in a way. To get to grieve, to be angry, to wonder what’s going on, to want things to be different. It was validating i guess

Don’t get me wrong i was FURIOUS i was so angry. I was so angry and so conflicted I kind of thought I might just like rip apart at my seams but I just felt caught between a rock and a hard place to be either abandoned by God or to not even be able to think about my experiences in a way that felt coherent.

He showed up though. I remember swearing at him, and laying up at night thinking he wasn’t there, I told him I wouldn’t have to have trauma if he would’ve stepped in, that my friends wouldn’t be dead, that he let it happen to me, that he just /witnessed/ it. And man idk he just showed up. He showed up every time. I almost walked away like five times that summer. And every time he sent someone, there was always someone that showed up and talked to me like out of nowhere. Or music, or scripture, or something someone said in passing. 

The night that it was really bad was when I realized that the only person who could save me was God and I cried out to him, and I just idk I’ve never been so desperate. I went to church the next day against my will and the sermon felt like it was written for me specifically. I cried through the whole thing.

If God is goodness, then how can I say he isn’t with me and around me constantly? In the sunrise and sunset, in the stars, in flowers, and in kind words. In sermons. In friends and family. In all the coincidences that stopped me from becoming an atheist, all of the answered prayers and the impossibilities. That’s why my side blog is called @in-the-whisper. Because I felt him there, even though it hurt, he was with me in the quiet and in the silence, in his whisper in a thousand different ways.

I was posed this question by someone who was there for me in one of those moments where I almost walked away from God, “Is sufficiency abundant?” I guess I thought it was. Where was God? In the peace that surpasses understanding. In the knowledge that everything is finished, that he died for us, that he didn’t abandon us. That whatever terrible things happen, he was willing to take all of the consequences for that onto himself in the person of Jesus. That one day he will set things right, even though it isn’t right right now. 

It comes down to the Gospel (good news, core story of the Christian faith); humanity actively chose to walk away from God in an act of rebellion. We had free will because God created us tenderly to be in a loving relationship with him, and loving relationships must be based on free will and they must be two way. So he let us walk away from him, and away from the sustainer of life our bodies break, our world crumbles, and we die. In order to bridge that gap, he chose to die in our place, so that we could re enter that free will relationship with him if we so choose. He died on the cross, descended into hell, and then in three days he rose from the grave, defeating death. And one day he will return on a white horse to rescue us and to take the world back as his own. If I believed that to be true, then I believed in the greatest intervention in human history that has ever occurred. The God of the Bible isn’t a distant God, "God showed how much he loved us by sending his one and only Son into the world so that we might have eternal life through him." 1 John 4:9 He did the unthinkable for us.

Living in light of the gospel helped me to understand the way that God is present in my life, my present, past, and in my future. It gave me peace. When Horatio G. Spafford’s two daughters and wife died in a shipwreck, he wrote this,

“When peace like a river attendeth my way, when sorrows like sea billows roll, whatever my lot, thou hast taught me to say, it is well, it is well with my soul." 

“Though Satan should buffet, though trials should come, let this blest assurance control: that Christ has regarded my helpless estate and has shed His own blood for my soul.

“My sin, oh the bliss of this glorious thought. My sin, not in part, but the whole, is nailed to the cross, and I bear it no more praise the Lord, praise the Lord, O my soul!

“And Lord, haste the day when my faith shall be sight The clouds be rolled back as a scroll The trump shall resound, and the Lord shall descend Even so, it is well with my soul!

“It is well with my soul, it is well, it is well with my soul.”

I don’t have an answer for your question. What I know is that I am willing to rest in the knowledge of my personal experiences and my research that God exists, that he is loving, and that he is powerful, just, and wise. Even the winds and the seas obey him, the mountains are like pebbles to him, thunder rolls at the sound of his voice. He had thought before time began, he gave all knowledge and all wisdom to us. 

Why do bad things happen also brings up the question, why do good things happen? Who do we have to thank when we get up in the morning and can see or hear or move or are alive in general? Why are we so blessed as to have two days and not just one? Where do mornings and complexity and beauty and wonder come from? They come from him. Not because we need it, but because he wants to give it to us. Enjoyment, existence, love, laughter, thought, beauty, heartbreak. The world is just as beautiful as it is terrible, and why should it be beautiful? Because he wants it to be that way.

God is so patient. He is so patient and kind and powerful, and he wants to hear your questions. Some of them, like this one, are in my opinion something that you have to talk to him about directly. He gives us thought and logic and reason and wisdom, and he asks for us to engage him. He will answer.

If any believers are reading this, I want you to know that it is enough to cry out to him in pain. It is enough to want to want to believe in him. He would so much rather hear from you in your anger than never hear from you at all. Seek him out, he will find you. He will chase after you.

I bet that he would chase after me, bet my life on it. I might not know the answer, but I am confident enough in what I do know that I’m willing to bet my existence that God will come true on his promises, that he will deliver me, that everything will be okay, that he is bigger than my trauma, and that he will hold me.

“For my thoughts are not your thoughts,     neither are your ways my ways,” declares the Lord. 9 “As the heavens are higher than the earth,     so are my ways higher than your ways     and my thoughts than your thoughts. 10 As the rain and the snow     come down from heaven, and do not return to it     without watering the earth and making it bud and flourish,     so that it yields seed for the sower and bread for the eater, 11 so is my word that goes out from my mouth:     It will not return to me empty, but will accomplish what I desire     and achieve the purpose for which I sent it. 12 You will go out in joy     and be led forth in peace; the mountains and hills     will burst into song before you, and all the trees of the field     will clap their hands. 13 Instead of the thornbush will grow the juniper,     and instead of briers the myrtle will grow. This will be for the Lord’s renown,     for an everlasting sign,     that will endure forever.” Isaiah 55:8-13

And I’m holding him to that promise.

#christianity #religion #christianity tw #religion tw #god #grief #grief tw #ask to tag #anon #this is definitely insufficient and im sorry #this is all i have to offer right now #its a hard thing to articulate ig #not mcyt

[bytheangell]

Hi!! I loved a lot your last Gabrily fic, and if you are still open to requests can I suggest one about them finding out they were having another kid so long after the other two? Baby Alexander barely gets mentioned eventhough he is the person Alec is named after, maybe at some point he did something great who know. I always find it curious how they reactions could have been to have another one so long after Christopher.. Ofc if this sits right with you and feel like it, thank uu

Breaking the News  (Read on AO3)

Cecily is thankful that Will and Tessa agreed to take Anna and Christopher to stay with them for the remainder of the day. Her thoughts bounce wildly from nervous to excited to total panic and everything in-between as she paces back and forth across the bedroom floor. Alone in the house until Gabriel arrives home in a few short hours, she wanted the time to come to terms with the news she got that morning and sort through her thoughts. Now that she has the time, she can’t sort through anything at all.

It doesn’t help that she’s been sick. That was the first hint that something was wrong, she suspected what may be the cause of her sudden recurring nausea and weakness, though she hardly dared to believe it. After spending the better part of the past week exhausted and obviously ill, Anna brought one of the Institute’s healers around to check on her, which was when they confirmed what she already partially guessed.

Except now that Cecily knows for certain that she’s pregnant with her third child, it’s quite the shock to process, with or without the distractions of two other children in the house.

She knows her initial doubts are mostly from the surprise of it all. Cecily likes being in control, and this is something she has no control over. This is happening, whether she wants it to or not, and even though she knows it’s a blessing the fact that she didn’t specifically choose to do this here and now throws her entire sense of being off-balance, enough for doubt to creep in. What if it isn’t just shock?

But that’s absurd. She loves her children, and she loved - and still loves - every moment of raising them. The chance to do all of that again is, while still a shock, a happy one. At least, it will be once she manages to get back in control of her racing thoughts and emotions.

Anna and Christopher are both teenagers now, sixteen and thirteen respectfully, and that fact isn’t lost on her. A new baby means 24/7 attention, days of constant needs and care that she thought were behind her. What if she thinks she can handle it but once the child is here she grows too overwhelmed tending to a newborn and two teenagers? Realizations like this are when the fear kicks in - she’s 37 years old, after all, and Gabriel 40.

Gabriel. What if he thinks them both too old to have a baby now? What if he hates the idea? It’s another reason she asked her brother to take the children - this is a conversation she wants them to have complete privacy for, just in case…

...just in case what?, she chides herself. This is Gabriel, after all. She remembers the years they spent together figuring out how to be parents to two wildly different children, remembers how good he was - and still is - with each of them, and how he’s never shown them anything other than unwavering love and devotion. This won’t be any different, she reminds herself, pushing the fear aside and allowing the nervous excitement to take over again.

She remembers the joy of raising Christopher and Anna, of watching them grow and learn and take their first steps and get their first runes… the joy of little moments and milestones she thought were long over for her. Anna is always so good with her brother, and Cecily can already imagine how wonderful Christopher will be as an older sibling, always so eager to teach others about his experiments. He could teach so much to a little brother or sister.

Cecily can only hope they’re as eager to have another sibling as she is to give them one.

Nervous. Excited. Fearful. Happy. Concerned. Eager. Her emotions shift and change more rapidly than she can keep up with until, finally, they settle along with her thoughts into one: contentment. This is happening, whether she’s ready for it to or not, and she’ll be damned if she isn’t going to make the absolute best of it.

When Gabriel finally arrives home he finds her in their bedroom, pacing as she’s been doing off-and-on for hours now as she tries to work out the best way to break the news.

“Cecily?” he greets her, voice uncertain. He’s been away in Idris but came back earlier than planned after hearing she hasn’t been feeling well. “Is everything alright? Shouldn’t you be resting?”

Gabriel takes a few steps into the room and reaches a hand out to still her anxious movements, resting it gently on her shoulder.

Cecily stops pacing and forces a small smile onto her face. “There will be plenty of time for resting soon,” she says cryptically. “And whether or not everything is alright depends largely on how you feel about…” she wonders briefly if there’s a good way to phrase this, or at least a better way than simply blurting it out.

It’s a pity that tact and gentle phrasing has never been one of Cecily’s strong suits.

“...about having another child,” she finishes, carefully watching his expression.

It’s difficult to decipher much beyond Gabriel’s absolute shock, which is fair. She’s still a bit shocked herself and she’s had hours to process the news. His hand remains on her shoulder and she feels the grip of it tighten ever so slightly.

“Just to be clear,” Gabriel says cautiously. “You’re saying this simply because you want to have another child, or because-”

“Because I’m pregnant,” she confirms.

A silence falls between them then. Cecily can see the wheels turning in Gabriel’s mind, the way his eyes shift constantly from her face to her stomach to the room around them as he processes this information, and it takes all of what little self-control Cecily possesses to allow him that time.

“You’re pregnant,” he finally repeats, and then, very slowly, his lips curl up into an eager smile. “That’s wonderful!”

“It is?” Cecily asks, the words slipping out in a rush of relief after she’d mentally prepared herself for the worst possible reaction.

“Isn’t it?” Gabriel counters, sounding suddenly unsure of his reaction.

“I mean, yes, of course, it is! But we’re not exactly in our prime, and it isn’t as if we planned this, or anticipated the possibility the way we had with Anna and Christopher. I just thought… I know it’s silly but I was afraid you might…” Cecily struggles to find the words for the fears that are suddenly rendered baseless in her mind.

“Cecily, my dear, sweet Cecily,” Gabriel says, wrapping his arms around her to pull her in close to him, mindful not to pull too tightly. “I love you, and I love our family, and any addition to it is nothing other than a blessing, no matter how unexpected.” He moves to hold her just far enough away to lean in and place a gentle kiss on her forehead.

Cecily feels a few errant tears make their way down her cheeks in both joy and relief.

“I feel the same,” she agrees. “And I knew you would, too. I just needed to hear you say it. Since I found out this morning all I could do was build it up in my head - we worked so hard to give Anna and Christopher stability and routine with their studies and training and this is going to upend all of that.”

“Do you think they’ll be upset?” Gabriel asks.

Cecily can only shrug. “I don’t know. I hope not, but… it is a big change. And it’ll be attention away from them, no matter how hard we try not to let it be. I just don’t want them to resent the baby, or us.”

“They won’t,” Gabriel says with a confidence Cecily wishes she felt. “Do you know how I know?”

The question should be rhetorical but he waits for an answer anyway, so Cecily asks, “How?”

The hand on her shoulder squeezes again, comforting as a knowing smile spreads across her husband’s face. “Because they’re our children, and we - you in particular - raised them to be the sort of people who have compassion and understanding, even as unruly teenagers. They’re going to adjust just fine - we all are.”

Cecily hadn’t anticipated the tears that now overwhelm her after such an emotional day, shed now for words of such simple kindness.

“Thank you,” Cecily says, shaking her head slowly. “For always knowing exactly what I need to hear.”

“Well, you make it easy when you’re always so effortlessly deserving of praise,” Gabriel counters, lifting his hand to wipe away a few stray happy tears. “I suppose I should wait until we tell the others before I go rearranging the whole house, shouldn’t I? We’ll have to make a few changes… clear out a room, set aside a bit more savings, arrange for me to be home with you for the foreseeable future, of course…”

As Gabriel begins to rattle off the things that come to mind for the immediate future, Cecily is struck by how incredibly lucky she truly is to have him by her side. He doesn’t miss a beat in figuring out how to rearrange his own life and habits to better tend to her and support their growing family. He doesn’t make so much as a passing mention of what an imposition such sudden changes will inevitably have on him.

“We’ll figure it out,” Cecily says, reaching out to take his hand in her’s. His own easy acceptance bleeds into her, calming her nerves and bringing a smile to her face. She thought those words over and over throughout the day, but this is the first time she thinks them without doubt and voices them with equal surety. They will figure it out. Together. “We have time, nothing has to be done or decided today.”

She glances at the clock. “In fact, perhaps we should enjoy the next hour or two to ourselves before Will and Tessa bring the children back. I’m sure once we tell them we won’t know a moment’s peace until months after the baby’s born,” she points out with a light laugh.

“I don’t know if you’re referring to your brother or the children,” Gabriel says. “Though I daresay it applies to the lot of them.”

Cecily rolls her eyes. “Oh, come now. You know I meant-” she begins, but stops abruptly. “No, you’re right. Will is going to be insufferable.”

Now it’s Gabriel’s turn to laugh. “We’ll face that inevitability when it comes. Right now, if I know you you’ve likely been stressed and wearing yourself out all day with worry. Let’s get you some proper rest before we break the news.”

It isn’t the sort of quiet, alone time she’d meant, but the moment he suggests it she knows it’s exactly what she needs. He always knows exactly what she needs. To her surprise, instead of tucking her in and going downstairs he gets into bed beside her, pulling her against his side, and she allows his warm, comforting presence to lull her into the best rest she’s had in days.

#gabrily #gabriel lightwood #cecily herondale #tsc #SORRY THIS TOOK ME A MILLION YEARS #but I hope you like it! #honestly I re-wrote it about a dozen times because I kept changing how I thought they'd react #and this could probably go quite a few ways but this is the one i ended up with #and i hope you like it! <3 #long post #elle writes a few deadbeat lines #anon glamour activated #ask rune #elle talks too much

[weepingvoidpenguin]

Misconception

Summary: After Elijah harshly cuts you out of his life, you’ve learned to move on from a love that once was. Or was it? The love lingers there but when Elijah returns he’s met with an unexpected surprise and you have to decide whether you want to forgive him or finally let him go.

Warnings: Angst, or at least my attempt at it

Word Count: 2k

Author’s Note: Hey guys! I’m sorry I haven’t posted so long! I just started the school semester and I’m working part time so I rarely have free time but I don’t want to leave anyone wondering. For those of you who are following me for The Gods’ Blessing story, don’t worry it hasn’t been discontinued. Again, just busy. Sorry! I hope you enjoy!

  “There’s nothing about this conversation that can be serious,” you said, standing up from the armchair and gliding your way over to the container of bourbon on the platter.

  There was a pause, a hesitance in Elijah’s tone that sprouted just a hint of fear in your heart but you pushed the negativity aside and poured the liquid into a glass. The trickle of the alcohol was the only sound that could be heard in the room, you hadn’t even realized you’d been holding your breath in hold of his response.

  “(Y/N) . . . please.” You twirled around and raised an eyebrow at him over the brim of the cup as you sipped from it, “Let’s not make this harder than it already is,”

  You watched how his eyes never met yours, how his throat strained at the guilt mingling in his voice and how he looked down at his phone expectantly, his gaze roaming back and forth from the floor to his screen.

  “Who are you waiting for?” You twirled the liquid around in the glass, your elbow rested on the hand wrapped around your own waist.

  For the first time since the beginning of the conversation, Elijah looked up at you and there was an honesty, a hidden pain behind his gaze that triggered the reality of his words in your soul. You exhaled the little breath you withheld and a tight knot formed in the pit of your throat. He wasn’t kidding. You fought the sudden overpowering ache in your chest and forced yourself to blink away the tears threatening to spill over despite never being afraid to cry in his presence before and the glass slipped from your grasp.

 You were sure the shattering of the crystal was loud enough to draw the attention of everyone in the household but no one came and it dawned on you that they knew that this was coming. They knew what was happening and they had been ordered to stay out of it.

  “Why?” you croaked through the pain in your throat.

  His phone lit up. Your attention shot to the device on the side table and the name sprawled across the screen clenched at your heart.

Hayley.

He pried his sight away from the black screen and his flared nostrils mixed with the red rim of his gaze spoke volumes louder than his words ever could.

“For her?” You cursed yourself for emitting so much vulnerability in your tone, “You’re leaving me for her?”

“I-I love her,”

“You love me!” You shouted, stepping around the shattered glass that lay around your barren feet. “Or have you forgotten that?”

“(Y/N), I – ”

“Does she cloud your judgement so much? So much so that you forget the promises you’ve made me?” You clamped your hand on his jaw and jerk his face towards yours. If he was gonna do this then he would have to bare witness to your pain.

“She clouds nothing!” Elijah yelled, the pain in his voice constricting his words.

Your eyes studied his own, observing how his gaze never landed on yours and danced across the room. You felt the beginnings of stubble under your fingers and the smell of him, of his scent, was among the many things you were to miss.

“You’re lying to me, Elijah,” You hissed, the tears no longer contained by your lids, “I know when you’re lying,”

Elijah gripped your hand painfully and pried it from his face, “You believe what you choose to despite me telling you what’s true,”

“It’s not!” You shouted, ignoring the pain shooting up from the sole of your foot.

Elijah looked down, already smelling the cause of your pain and unlike his usual mannerism, ignored it and held strong in his words. He was showing that he cared nothing for you anymore. You were no longer his concern. And that went into effect immediately.

His glare bore into yours and a ferocity that replaced his pain urged him on despite how much he knew he was hurting you. It had to be done.

“You have ‘til the end of the night to find somewhere. If not, I’ll personally escort you off the premises,”

Your glare softened and disbelief took over, “E-Elijah,”

He bent over ever so slightly so he was at your level and you took a step back to make up for his intimidation, “Get. Out.”

~

Four years. It’d been four years since you’d last seen Elijah.

That night you called Damon and he offered you his home with open arms. Very un-Damon like but you sighed with relief when he did. Your family was back in Mystic Falls and although they’d be the logical option to move in with, your brother had a wife and you didn’t want to intrude on that.

The first year was hard for you. Everything about everything reminded you of Elijah. The kindness in your friends, the suits on Damon, the morality of Alaric. It was all too much for too long. Then Bonnie came up with a solution, temporary of course. She offered alleviation. A numbness without a cold. You would feel nothing but a dull ache while you sorted your pain out. Eventually, it worked.

These days, Elijah was the last thing on your mind, truly. You’d moved on, lived your life and stuck with Damon as a weird duo but you’d retained your mortality, until you were ready to give it up anyway. Or so he offered. But you weren’t sure. You couldn’t trade all that you currently had for immorality.

And as you sat on the chair outside The Grill, waiting for your food and drink, the reason for your hesitation waddled out of the restaurant, her eyes looking for your familiar figure. Your smile met your eyes as you outstretched your hands, repeatedly closing and opening your fists to motion for her to come to you. Her laugh brought a joy to your ears you’d long thought you’d lost but she rejuvenated you.

“Where’s Daddy?” You asked, not waiting for a reply. “Where’d he run off to?” You continued your chatter with her, not noticing the figure walking up to you.

“(Y/n) . . .” a voice emerged from behind you and your heart twisted in your chest.

You couldn’t bring yourself to turn around, afraid of seeing who you thought it was. Or worse, not seeing him at all. Your body shook but for what you didn’t know. Was it agony? Anger? Excitement? You didn’t have enough time to ponder its reasoning before he spoke your name again and you slowly turned around.

And seeing him now hurt just as much as when he’d kicked you to the curb.

“Elijah,” you whispered, afraid at how weak your voice sounded.

You watched as he looked you up and down slowly, not in a way to objectify you but like he was taking you in all over again. Like the first time he’d ever set eyes on you.

“W-what are you doing here?” You asked before a tugging on your leggings caught your attention and you looked down to see the toddler’s hands reaching out for you.

“Up!” she demanded and you contemplated it momentarily, afraid you’d honestly drop her from how hard your body shook but you seceded and picked up her light figure, resting her on your hips.

Elijah observed as your motherly instincts took over and a tightening in his chest that he’d felt throughout the years came back with a ferocity. It was too late. Unless . . .

He watched how you almost hid the girl from him, as though you were afraid he would notice something about her and the tightening twisted into physical pain at the thought that crossed his mind but he couldn’t help but ask.

“I-is that . . . I mean, is she,” but he couldn’t find the words, rather he pointed to you and then to himself. Normally, he wouldn’t even have considered the idea but Klaus managed to have a child with Hayley so anything could be possible, he thought. He hoped.

You twisted the child away ever so slightly and shook your head, “She’s not yours if that’s what you’re wondering,”

He smiled sadly at the child and stared down at you, of course she wasn’t his. That’d be more ‘good’ than he deserved. Especially considering how he behaved the last time he saw you. But he needed you gone, needed you safe. And you were.

The ache pulled at his stomach and made its way up to his throat, cramping it up. He’d waited too long to come back for you. How foolish he was to think you’d wait for him.

“She looks like you,”

You nodded and jumped up to raise her higher onto your hip, “I get that a lot,”

Moments of silence passed between you before you cleared your throat and shook him from his fantasies.

“I’m sorry to bother you, I have business to attend to,” he whirled around and took elegant but hasty strides away from you.

Oh God. Don’t go.

“Elijah,” you whispered, knowing he heard you despite the hush of your tone but he didn’t look back. He never looked back.

~

“It’s too late, Klaus. I’ve lost her,” The words burned Elijah’s throat as he spoke them.

“That’s not possible, Elijah. The woman’s in love with you,” Klaus responded, bearing no mind to the pain that his brother was living through. “You snap your fingers and she’ll come crawling back to you I know it-”

“She has a child, Klaus. A daughter.” Elijah whisked back the drink in his hand, staring menacingly at the lit fireplace.

Klaus raised his brow, “How old is the child?” He asked, the same curious tone that Elijah emitted not too long ago.

“Three, maybe four,” he responded.

Klaus’ eyebrows raised even higher, “Could it be-”

“She’s not.” Elijah silenced his brother in his retort. The topic would no longer be discussed.

“I see,” Klaus rested lazily back in his seat, “That’s too bad, Hope could do with a cousin her age,”

“This is your fault,” Elijah spoke, no specific emotion prevalent in his words.

Klaus let the silence go on for a beat too long, not knowing what he could say to calm the heartbreak of his elder brother. “You know she wouldn’t have left if you hadn’t broken her heart, Elijah. She’s a stubborn one. She would’ve stayed for the war and then you’d have truly lost her forever,”

Elijah chewed on the inside of his cheek, the resentment he had for his brother at a point he wasn’t aware it could reach, “I already have,”

~

By the time you pulled in to the driveway you were practically a mess, only holding it together for a few more moments before you were going to implode.

“Let’s go,” you said, unbuckling her tiny body from the new car seat you bought and walked her over to the front door before looking at the man standing beside you and waiting for him to pull out his keys. When he gave you a sheepish smile, you rolled your eyes and knocked on the door. 

The seconds of silence that passed gave you the opportunity to immerse yourself in the pain you’d avoided for years now and if the door wasn’t opened soon you wouldn’t be able to hold it together for much longer.

“Mommy!” The door creaked open and she ran up to her mother and jumped into her arms.

“How was she?” she asked and you smiled, hoping the man beside you couldn’t see the pain in your action but he knew you too well to not notice.

“She was great. We went for ice cream and took a walk around the park then played on the swing set.” You chuckled at how loving she was towards her daughter. She watched as her husband entered the house looking as exhausted as ever.

“Thank you for watching them both.” She giggled and gave you one of her world renown smiles.

You nodded, “Of course, you know I love her and am obligated to love my brother as well,”

“No! Stay Aunty (Y/N)!” The toddler demanded and you smiled lightly at her.

“I’ll visit again soon, I promise!” You stuck out your pinky for her and she twisted her own miniscule one around yours.

“Pinky promise,” she said and smiled goofily at you.

“Pinky promise,”

#the originals #the vampire diaries #originals x reader #mikaelson x reader #elijah mikaelson #elijah mikealson imagine #elijah mikealson x reader #elijah #Mikaelson family #klaus mikaelson #klaus #klaus mikaleson imagine #imagine #angst #fluff #romance #blurb #one shot #series #imagines #damon salvatore #salvatore #x reader #x you #x y/n #reader insert #angssttt #kol #kol mikaelson #mikaelsonfamily

[eluthanai]

Lack or Inability

The evening sun was warm for this late in the summer in Eluthane. They might even be spared the autumn freeze longer than usual, Hiereus thought as he walked with a basket of goods from the storerooms below the Temple.

Though the Eluthane counsel oversaw the work, the Temple priesthood was responsible for distributing goods to each family. Every week most of the city would come to the green outside the Temple to exchange empty baskets for one full of allotted provisions.    

Most got the same each week, though requested items would often be included. Books from the Temple library, toys for children, clothing, or materials for hobbies and work.  

While most came to the green themselves, some couldn’t each week, and for that the priesthood delivered items to homes. This brought Hiereus to the door of Patos, a man he had seldom met. No sound came from the home when he knocked. “Patos, are you home?” he called. “It’s Hiereus, you know Phose’s son. My sister and I were recently made priests.” His mother let him know this might happen, still he waited a bit.

“I have your food, and the book you requested.” still no answer. “I wanted to know if you needed anything I can bring you next time?” Something shifted inside and then silence; at least he knew Patos was home even if he didn’t respond.  “I can just leave this at your door for you. Send word to the Temple if you need anything else,” he said setting down the basket before leaving.

He had walked a few yards off when the door opened. “Wait,” the man’s voice called, “I need you to return my empty baskets.”

Hiereus smiled as he returned to the house.

“I… Um…” Patos started, “have two baskets to send back with you, and a pot that I finished the preserves from a month ago.” He retreated into his home to find the baskets.

With the door left open Hiereus could see inside. Wooden and ceramic figures of animals, people, trees, and so forth were displayed on shelves on the far side of the room. The detail and liveliness of the art was exceptional.

He had seen some of Patos’ work before. Occasionally his work came through the Temple to either be exported or given to members of the community. Hiereus’ friend Luso had grown up playing with a wooden fox that Patos made.

“Oh, thank you,” Hiereus said, accepting the stack of baskets and a carefully cleaned pot. “I have to say your sculptures are lovely.”

Patos smiled vaguely, “Thanks,” he said, “I haven’t made anything for a while.”

“Still, you’re very good at it.” Patos nodded and looked uncomfortable so Hiereus changed the subject, “Is there anything you need, or would like me to bring next week?”

“Hmm…” Patos made his expression blank and visibly shrank, “I think I’ll just read this book. I, um, haven’t felt like much recently, and with winter coming… I don’t know.” He looked down as he spoke and trailed off at the end of each sentence before starting the next.

“It’s fine if you don’t have anything to ask for. I’ll be back next week and you can let me know if you think of anything.” Hiereus offered him a friendly smile. “In the meantime, may the light of the Flame keep you and your home.” He waved as he offered the blessing.

“You as well,” Patos said, stepping back as if preparing to shut the door, and only stayed waiting for Hiereus to leave.

Hiereus smiled again and nodded before going, and he heard the door close behind him.

It was four weeks before Patos answered again.      

“I brought your week’s food,” Hiereus called. The door opened, and Patos appeared, his expression blank as if he were hiding under a mask.

“I got a sending from your mom. She said I had to answer for you today or she would come herself. I didn’t respond, but you can tell her that I answered?”

Hiereus frowned a little, he felt bad that his mom had threatened him. It wasn’t much of a threat, though for Patos it was enough.

“I felt bad I haven’t finished the book yet, but it’s past time I returned it.” Patos said, offering the book back.

“Did you enjoy reading it?”

“Oh, it’s interesting and well written,” he let slip a frown as he looked down at it. “I tried to finish it today before you arrived, I’m only about half way through it though.”

“You know, no one has requested it, if you like I can enter the log that you need more time with it.”  

“Oh don’t bother yourself,”

Hiereus offered a sympathetic frown, “Did you know it took me a long time to learn how to read?” he asked and Patos shook his head, “It was difficult for me, the letters seemed to jumble together, I still read slower than most people, so I get it if you need more time.”

“My problem’s not…” Patos started, but  Hiereus cut him off.

“You were enjoying it weren’t you?” and Patos nodded, “Then I’ll get you more time, it's not any bother for me.”

Patos pursed his lips into what could almost be called a smile. “Thanks,” he said.  “I suppose I ought to give you my empty baskets.” he went into his house to retrieve them.

He came back looking uncertain, “I,” he started, “I think I could try making something. Could you have some log sections sent up? I feel guilty not contributing when everyone else does so much.”

Hiereus nodded, and made a note of the request. His mother had explained Patos’ depression to him, and he wanted to express that it wasn’t necessary, reassure him he would be cared for even if he couldn’t work, such was the way of the Flame. Instead he said, “Your efforts are appreciated, I’ll have some wood sent over.”

“Thanks,” Patos said.

“May the light of the Flame bless you and your labors” Hiereus offered the blessing before leaving.  

In the coming weeks Patos answered more regularly for him, and seemed less guarded. One day after exchanging baskets, Patos stopped him. “Wait,” he said. “I have some things for you to take back to the Temple.”

Before long Patos returned with some wooden figures, “I’m sorry it took me so long to make them.”

Hiereus looked at each of them and placed them in the basket. A caribou, an owl, and a horse, each lifelike and highly detailed.

“These are really impressive!” Hiereus exclaimed. “To be honest, I don’t know anything about woodworking so I hadn’t expected them before now.” He also hadn’t assumed Patos simply didn’t want to make them for his own enjoyment, but he left that part unsaid. “I’m sure whomever these go to will love them.”

“Do you know if they will stay in Eluthane, or be sent out with the trade goods?” Patos asked. “I don’t know,” Hiereus confessed, “We always take into account the needs of the community first before sending items with our traders.”

“I always wonder how our work is regarded when it's sent out. I like to imagine my efforts bring joy to others. May the light of the Flame keep them strong wherever they go.”

“I’m sure they will,” Hiereus said, “I knew some of your work as a child, one of my friends had a fox you made. I’d keep something like this on display in my home, it's quite lovely.”

“I’m glad you like it. People seem to like my work,” he said. “Oh before I forget, these aren’t the only things I made for you to take back,” he added, retreating and coming back with a free form loaf of bread.

“I baked this a few hours ago. The Thuometha is in two days and I would be happy to know I contributed something.”

“My mom is taking over the role of chief priest from Eipen this year. I’ll talk to both of them and have it included. Thank you for this. Do you need me to bring any more flour to replace it?” he said.

“Oh, no. I don’t always eat it fast enough anyways. Thank you for taking my contributions.”

Hiereus nodded, “May the Flame’s light preserve your will.” He gave the blessing, and Patos returned it before leaving.

***

It was late in the evening after the Thuometha. Hiereus had been disappointed but not surprised when he realized Patos had missed the communal meal, and he had taken it on himself to set aside a pot with portions of each of the dishes to take up to the man’s home.

“Patos, It’s Hiereus, I brought food from the Thuometha.” The door opened and Hiereus could see the man had been crying.

“It’s getting cold out. Do you need to step inside?” Patos asked.

Hiereus nodded and came in.

“Thank you for bringing me some of the meal. I tried to come this year, but well I find it difficult to go places,” he said sitting at his table. “I don’t remember how many years it's been since I was able to go. I do miss it though, the celebrations, the community sacrifice, the red of an Euluthanai fire. I could see the braziers on the green from my window; that was nice.”

“I gave your loaf to my mom, they used it for the ritual.”

With that Patos eyes lit up, “Thanks for letting me know; I’m glad I had something to offer. I wish it were easier for me to go to such things.”  

Hierus nodded, “I don’t know if you’re interested,” he said, “but the lighting of the kiln is in a couple weeks. It’ll be my first time taking part in a public ritual.”

“Oh, congratulations!” Patos said warmly, “I… Well I’ll try to go, but I can’t promise anything. I have a hard time with crowds. I haven’t been to a lot for a long time.”

“You know there is always someone at the Temple keeping the Flame under the central oculus. Throughout the night just one or two priests attend it at a time. My sister and I will be taking a turn day after tomorrow. You know me, and if you know me you pretty much know her. You said you missed seeing the red of an Eluthanai fire... if you came it would just be the three of us and the Flame.”

“That would be nice, I’ll probably take you up on that.”

Hiereus nodded, “I’d best be going, enjoy the food. It should still be warm in that pot.”

***

What was called spring elsewhere was more than half gone when the snow finally retreated in Eluthane. Patos never came to the Temple in the nights when Hiereus kept the flame, though he still delivered his baskets every week.  

“Do you mind walking with me for a bit,” Patos asked one evening when Hiereus came.

“Sure there’s still plenty of daylight left,” he answered.

“Thanks,” Patos said, “I like to see the spring flowers on the hillside when they come. It's my favorite in the cycle of seasons.”

Hiereus gestured for Patos to lead on and they walked in silence. Occasionally a passer by would stop them to chat and Hiereus would talk and perform the expected niceties before continuing.

The hillside was speckled with little yellow and orange flowers, and they looked out at them for a bit. Later they walked past the edge of the forest where pine trees were just putting on new growth and the normally dark evergreens were speckled with young light green branches.

“Thank you,” Patos said as they approached his home again. “People are very welcoming, but I never know what to say to people if they want to talk. So thank you for helping me go out today.”

“It was no problem,” Hiereus said, “During the spring and summer at least I can probably go walking each week when I come.”

“Every week sounds like a lot for me, but thank you, I’ll let you know if I’m up to it,” he answered. “Oh before you go...” and Patos retreated into his house, and returned holding a wooden sculpture of a wind blown tree on a hill.

“I had thought to give this to you on a night when I visited you keeping the Flame at the Temple, but I don’t know when I’ll work myself up to go out at night. Anyways I made this when I was about your age.”

“This is…” he stopped, lost for words. “You were very talented even back then. Thank you.”

“I made that for my mother, and I’ve kept it since she died. I want you to have it now, because…” he hesitated, “you remind me of her in a way. I’m sorry. That’s a weird thing to say.” he chuckled nervously.  

“It’s fine,” Hiereus said, looking down at the gift.

“I was saying before, Eluthane is welcoming, but I don’t know how to be with people, and very few take time to even silently spend time with me. Still I don’t know if I could survive anywhere else.”

“The Way of the Flame is a shelter,” Hiereus said.

“It is,” Patos responded.

They sat quietly for several minutes after that. “I should let you go,” Patos said, “it still gets very cold after dark, but thank you again for your time.”

“Thanks again, for the gift.” Hiereus said, standing, “It really is a treasure. Take care and may the Flame guard and guide your path.”

Patos nodded and waved him on.

#D&D #dnd #cleric #communism #tieflings #worth of souls #Religion #eluthane #oc #faith #fire #flame #liberation #liberation theology #socialism