#best faction forever

[dynamitekansai]

#wrestling #joshi puroresu #stardom #hana kimura #tam nakano #yu ishino #kagetsu #sumire natsu #kris wolf #p-chan #oedo tai #best faction forever

[mx-paint]

.

#you hate the legion route bc its stupid and slaverys bad #i hate it bc whenever someone brings it up into discussion about it being the 'best ending' #it turns into how dictatorships and democracies are actually the same thing and also both are good and fine with no problems - #and are ultimately good for everyone in it. #(also its stupid and slavery is bad) #[i have played the legion route. would argue that theyre some of the best villains/antagonists in the series] #but like. most of the people ive seen say that the legion route is the best are both Supremely Racist #and also argue for slavery to be reintroduced. #post brought to you by my diminished hope while looking through a yt channel #i wouldnt be that weirded out by arguing the legion is the best route (it isnt lmfao but your wrong opinion is Yours..) #if. the poster seemed to be trying with it. #like. even ignoring the weird pro real life dictatorship nonsense (some of which she even Liked...) #its kind of. known the legion wont last? #id argue for the independent route the problems with it seem to be the unchanging same endings no matter what for some factions #and the ncr having some of the people youd want in charge either dead or retiring #(dont get me started on house) #the legion ultimately is acknowledged that it wont/cant last long #lanius ultimately is too power hungry and enslaved everyone leading to a disbandment #and caesar even if healed isnt going to last forever #its acknowledged that the legions views arent whats taught. #its caesar himself. #even having another leader introduced (whether the courier/lanius or anyone else) #wont. really change that. #esp bc caesar even says he did this on purpose #i have a lot of thoughts about the fallout endings but omg man

[azrantimes]

We all know that Netflix loves to cancel queer shows, but they lowkey hide their queers

Like a few months ago I was looking for something to watch and stumbled onto October Faction. Great show, I highly recommend it, even with 1 season, but I watched the trailer first as one does. Our 2 main characters are twins, and the trailer showed Viv making out with a guy. Her brother wasn't seen with a love interest.

So I watch the show thinking this girl was gonna have a boyfriend but no they literally kissed once and the guy sucks. Geoff, the other twin, is clearly stated to be gay from the start. He has a romantic subplot with a guy and it's important for the plot.

It's a supernatural show and not romance focused but their relationship is important, why was this never advertised? Again, it's not a queer show, but you'd think Netflix would love to parade with queer characters.

It's silly but I've been thinking about this for months

#October Faction #Netflix #Netflix gave us a family centered black led supernatural show with gays and canceled it #forever salty about that #its not the best show ever but I love it

[balteus]

actually re: fromsoftware politics. i do think it's very interesting that the anti-colonialist RLF, ostensibly considered the 'good guys' of the game, were initially explicitly called the communist faction. armored core always has been a series critical of oligarchies and hyper-capitalism, but it's... very interesting to see just how blatant that is in ac6 specifically

you'd think that fromsoftware would eventually drop the ball on the "the ruling class will kill you and cannibalise itself in order to stay alive" considering that they're considered elite AAA devs rn, but thinking about elden ring and ac6's narratives, they've really only gotten more obvious about it - the horrors of colonialism and genocide and the sympathy given to the rage of its victims is something that's actually insane to see, to me, from such a big studio - fromsoft doesn't even attempt to be centrist about it.

for example, the frenzy flame ending. the only thing melina can tell you to dissuade you from pursuing it, ie literally destroying the world forever, is that there's still beauty in the world, apart from the suffering the golden order had caused. at no point however is the sheer despair of the people that the flame represents villanized. if anything, it's portrayed as a self-fulfilling prophecy, it is a tragedy. the only villain is the order who slaughtered all of these people, the flame of despair is something that emerged in them as they were buried alive. and the flame isn't even intended as a revenge upon the world, it's simply a means to end the pain they feel for being subjected to this.

their grief isn't something for the player to judge, it isn't something they're forced to overcome, it's simply a physical manifestation of the reality that was forced upon them. and these people, the merchants, are still kind to us, even knowing the order that we pursue. (in fact, the true, considered best ending of elden ring, is literally just sacrificing yourself in order to achieve complete anarchism. and getting a cool wife to endure the loneliness of space along the way)

in ac6 then, ayre is so terribly forgiving towards us, knowing what we are, knowing what made us, knowing what we participate in. some of this undoubtedly is because of her narrative role, she has to be a sympathetic character. but we do get to see her rage at the end, her grief for her species being seen as nothing more than a resource to be exploited or burned fully vocalized. but the RLF is sympathetic too as resistance fighters who want their home back. the only criticism the game ever leverages towards the RLF is that they're actually not radical enough in their pursuit of freedom, and that criticism is made by a villain.

it's so... i almost want to say optimistic? other games would have tried to pull a "ooh but what if the good guys did bad things (poor attempt at moral grayness)" but no, the RLF is justified at every step of the way. idk it makes me feel things. i dont particularly want to portray fromsoftware as these bastions of political correctness or sth - they're not perfect and i don't expect that ever lmao, but it's so fucking weird that their games are this progressive and have been for a long ass time.

#armored core #armored core 6 #elden ring #fromsoftware #idk i got a little carried away

[crystalflygeo]

Last of her kind Emperor!Alpha!Zhongli + Omega!Dragoness!Reader

cw/tags: Your usual mentions of slavery and sexual themes, A/B/O dynamics and heat mentions. Also allusions to depression and mentions of death.

notes: Aahahaha this took forever..... allow me top explain: first of all my new job is killing me and second of all I'm going through a hard period where I don't really like anything I write anymore. This work in particularly I kept struggling with the pacing, the dialogues, the way I wanted feelings to come across or scenes to flow it's just hhhnnnggg. I told a couple of friends that I set the bar so high with the first part I feel like nothing else I write will be that good. Then the second part was "ok" but cut off in a cliffhanger and has been there for SO LONG that now I feel this will be underwhelming after all the buildup//hit

I hope it's not. I hope it's good.

Anyway this part is in Zhongli's pov and contains flashbacks which will be fully in italics! Enjoy! and thanks for caring so much about this story ;w; ILU all <3

<- Part 2.

Your instincts mess up with your head.

Your crying and anxiety have simmered to a cold numbness.

Hours blur together, time loses meaning.

The doctor comes by sometimes. The maids bring you food. But everything feels… off, distant.

This doesn’t feel… like your usual heats.

You curl up and sob, a choked soft noise.

You don’t feel hot, but rather cold. Limbs weak. Dizzy.

Your heart aches.

You’re so tired.

And so sleepy…

Zhongli puts down the seal stamp and deflates back into his chair with a sigh, he must have read the same line at least five times already. He cannot concentrate at all. It’s not even been three days and each hour, each minute, feels eternal.

He’s already gotten so used to your presence, so smitten with you and your little quirks, your rare smiles, the way your ears and tail flicker, your pretty eyes…

And he remembers those same eyes begging for him, teary. Your pitiful cry. Your distressed scent.

Guilt eats at him. As well as something else…

He’s been restless, barely slept. Your scent is a siren’s song on the blankets, tart and fresh and tantalizing, but you are not with him. Anxious energy flows in his veins. This emotion, this thing that is like regret and sorrow and fear all tangled together, cleaves him through. His instincts are screaming at him, rattling inside a cage of his own making. His mate, his precious Omega is in heat, you’re scared and lonely and need him. Zhongli has to suppress a growl and feel the shudder of his scales at the fact that he’s not with you. In your nest. Taking care of you.

It’s agonizing.

"How is she?"

The same question, over and over, at any chance he gets.

"She refuses to eat, your majesty." Xiao tells him, and he can feel the concern in the younger Alpha’s voice. “According to the maids she only took a few bites of the ajilenak nuts, the rest of the food was left untouched.”

…

"She's um... she's always sleeping when I go check up on her." Ganyu explains a little crestfallen. She too is worried. “A-at least I think she’s in no pain… she was clinging to one of your hanfus.”

…

"You should go see her, Zhongli." Ping states, a rare serious expression on her usual gentle factions. “Baizhu says she’s going through the worst case of separation sickness he’s ever seen. Is that really what you want your poor Yin to go through?”

He lets out a frustrated rumble.

“Of course not. But it’s for the best, I don’t want to… take advantage of her, or force her to anything.” Zhongli frowns, trying to focus on the papers in front of him again, in an attempt to ignore her piercing gaze.

“Is it really any of that if she wants her mate?” Ping retorts. “She was begging you.”

I know.

He growls this time, and shakes his head at his memory of you. It haunts him.

“She doesn’t know what she wants.”

“So, you’re deciding for her then? Is that it? Honestly, are you listening to yourse-”

“She’s been conditioned to serve.” He cuts her off, voice grave and somber. “Trained to be submissive and please. She likes me simply because I’m kind to her, she wants me because she thinks it’s her obligation as my mate. I feel the pull of the bond too, the need, the yearning. But I also know she is afraid of Alphas and she thinks… she thinks she has to obey me. That she owes me something or that own her.” His eyes narrow. “I didn’t need to bond her. I shouldn’t have bonded her. I just… wanted her to be free and instead I chained her to me. And now she’s in heat…”

And it drives him insane.

“Listen to me, we’ve both spent time with her, enough to know she’s opening up and learning to voice her feelings…” Ping reasons gently. “It’s a slow process, don’t hurt her this way. At the very least… go see her.”

“I lost control once with just one kiss from her. I will not do it again. I will not harm her any further.”

The elderly woman keeps silent for a few moments. Zhongli sighs and rests his forehead in his palm in defeat.

And then Ganyu approaches, a little tense, a stack of papers in her hands.

“Your majesty, the Qixing are starting to arrive, council meeting will begin soon.”

“Very well. Thank you Ganyu.” He stands up and nods at her, then turns to Ping and his demeanor softens a little. “You know I just want to correct my mistakes, and give her the life she deserves. At least a fraction of it, of happiness.”

It wasn’t supposed to go this way… Zhongli sighed as he walked up to the room where the “reunion” with the sumerian would take place. It was long overdue seeing as he had spent the night by your side, refusing to leave after you had cried and begged so desperately…

After he had bonded you.

He had initially taken the eremite’s claims with a grain of salt, but naturally he had to make sure. The last dragonblood had supposedly died decades ago, so how…?

And yet when he saw you for the first time in that room, he knew.

You were real, you were beautiful. Suddenly he felt a million things at once: He wanted to get to know you, stay close to you, protect you. Old draconic instinct vibrating excitedly on his soul. You smelled vaguely familiar, your tail was gorgeous, your ears adorable. What if you didn’t like him though? What if he harmed you? Scared you? Suddenly he was nervous, nervous of ruining this, nervous in a way he hadn’t been in so long, like when he’d been young and Liyue had been at war and he had lost everything to fire and smoke and dust and he had to make difficult decisions and-

He had always calculated his moves. No room for risks. Too much at stake.

But you, you disarmed him. Completely.

You, with your polite gentleness despite the obvious cracks beneath the surface.

You, with your beautiful looks and enormous potential, even if you didn’t see it yourself.

You, with that look of yearning and hope, with your soft lips and sweet moans, with your warm body fitting perfectly against his.

For once, he allowed himself to make a decision with his heart, not logic, not politics. Just instincts.

And he claimed you…

…

He enters the room. A couple Millelith soldiers stationed by the door, Xiao standing by his side loyally as he sits at his place of honor as the emperor. Your ‘master’, an Alpha eremite named Zaheer, kneels respectfully a little below.

“I see you liked her, your majesty” He offers a sly smirk. “Did she satisfy you properly? She’s been trained on her gag reflexes to-”

Zhongli -Morax- resists the urge to growl. “We are not here to discuss that.”

“Ah, of course, business!”

Business.

“Since she’s such an exotic and well-trained slave I suppose we could agree on…”

“Do you think of me an idiot, Zaheer?” Morax’s eyes narrow.

“P-Pardon me?”

“She is a pureblood xiānshòu. I want to know exactly how she ended up being enslaved by you and your people.”

Cold and calculating golden eyes stare down at the eremite.

“W-What… she’s desert-born!” Zaheer retorts back angrily “She was born at a heat house. Maybe she has traits from your people because one of them decided to get a cheap fuck while traveling.”

“You expect me to believe that?” Morax asks unfazed “Liyue has records of the last of her kind disappearing and presumably being murdered when a village near Sumeru borders was razed to the ground. Do you have a disclosure?”

Zaheer stands up and growls, clearly an Alpha not used to having to bow his head and accept things not going his way.

Clearly an Alpha used to intimidating and attacking others.

Xiao wields his spear and changes his stance to an offensive one. The Millelith guards also tense.

Zaheer gets even more irritated, feeling like a caged animal. Backed into a corner. “Emperor or not” He starts through gritted teeth. “If you’re not going to pay me then I’ll take my merchandise back and do business elsewhere where I’m not being accused of ridiculous claims.”

“You’re right that I won’t be doing any business with you, but we’ll see how ridiculous those claims truly are. Zaheer, by my word as the emperor you will now remain detained in Liyue.” Morax sentences.

The eremite’s red eyes widen in shock and rage and the desert-dweller shoots up to attack Morax, getting easily overpowered and neutralized by Xiao’s quick moves. In seconds his weapon drops to the floor as the Yaksha general points his spear at the unconscious man. The Millelith quickly retrieve him and the blade before Morax simply nods at them.

Months. It had been months since then and he had to begrudgingly release the man as no accusation connected him to anything. They were essentially out of leads. There did appear to be documentation of your birth at a desert village but Zhongli would be hard pressed to believe the half-assed story you’ve been told…

And since you are pureblood, then both of your parents, and most importantly your dam, was also a dragonblood. That’s at the very least one Liyue citizen enslaved in a foreign nation.

He would get to the bottom of this.

For now, however, he had to cast those worries aside.

The Seven members of the council sit around the large table, the Liyue Qixing, leaders of all the commerce and trade sectors of the nation.

Zhongli takes his place at the head of the table. Ganyu does so as well by the sideline.

“Very well, what’s our first topic today?”

“Did Master just… leave?”

There was silence at the table, Zhongli and Ping sit frozen and you get just a bit nervous.

It’d been a few days since you started your new life, and though Zhongli was sure you were warming up to it he knew you still had a long way to go. It was probably still a little surreal for you… such a big change from everything you knew.

The tension on his shoulders quickly drops again. He continues eating. “Yes.” He says simply. Ping follows his lead, saying nothing.

The faster you forget about that eremite, the better.

“Hm…” You continue eating as well. Your expression is a little conflicted…

You inhale.

“Was he… happy… that I finally found a mate?”

Zhongli turns to you sharply and tenses again like a cat bristling. He holds back his tongue so as to not say something he’d regret. Why do you still care about that despicable man’s opinion? Why do you still seek his approval? Did you really think he cared about you? Zhongli desperately wants to make you understand how that slave-owner only saw you as an object, how he fed you lies, how his mistreatment is inexcusable…

But he can only imagine how deep your scars run, and how that toxic mindset has settled and accompanied you for years. He cannot judge you for caring about someone who doesn’t deserve it.

“Why do you ask, dear?” Ping asks instead.

“I don’t know…” You mumble, poking at the congee with your spoon. “I always wanted to make him proud.”

Proud.

Him?

“I think what matters most is how you feel.” Zhongli says, his hand reaching out for yours invitingly and you place your fingers on his palm, getting a soft reassuring squeeze. “You don’t need to rely on how others view you or think about you.”

You seem thoughtful for a second, your ears flickering back insecure but then standing up alert again. “I am happy” You admit. “Very happy. I have the best mate in the world.” You smile brightly.

Zhongli’s heart does a flip.

“With the excessive rains in the northern villages, there have been many floods and a lot of crops have been severely damaged or lost. Our previous contingency plan is in action already and donations are being sent to help the affected families. However, we must prepare for a decline in the harvest of certain grains and vegetables this season, as well as an increase in prices for a few months due to the shift in demand and supply.” Keqing explains expertly, the young alpha’s expression is serious and solemn.

“It’s an opportunity to strengthen commerce with Mondstadt and Sumeru.” Ningguang chimes in, leaning back on her chair, arms crossed. “The value of jade and other crystals is on the rise as well.”

“Not to mention, we’ll be employing several architects from the Akademiya to help with the rebuilding.” Keqing adds, turning to Ganyu, who nods.

“Greater lord Rukkhadevata and lesser Lord Kusanali have agreed on a certain exchange program with Liyue. I started drafting up some proposals already if you’d like to see.” The blue-haired secretary passes along some documents.

Ningguang’s eyes skim along the page. “It’s almost like our new Sumeru-born empress was a sign.” She smirks. “By the way, where is she?” She turns to Zhongli, curious about her fellow Omega.

“She’s rather indisposed at the moment.” The emperor replies dryly, not wanting to delve much onto the touchy subject. “Ganyu this looks good, however we need to think about-”

There is a knock that quickly surprises everyone. Who could interrupt a council meeting and why?

Baizhu peeks in with Changsheng curled around his neck, a frown on his usually gentle features. “Your majesty, a word. It’s an emergency.”

All the members at the table stare silently as Zhongli stands and follows the doctor.

Ganyu has a bad feeling…

“We have no time, follow me.” The green-haired doctor walks briskly along the wooden corridors, he looks… frustrated, dejected.

“What’s wrong?”

He doesn’t want to panic. He never panics. But something inside him does. It’s obvious that this has to do with you. 

“I apologize, your majesty. I thought it was just a case of separation sickness but… the empress is showing signs of widow’s wasting.”

Zhongli stops.

His heart skips a beat. His skin prickles with dread.

“She’s… dying?”

Baizhu shakes his head. “It hasn’t reached that point yet, but… she’s deteriorating.”

The guilt is back. The fear.

“Given what happened, I’m pretty certain the shock of your rejection was the trigger. Still, it is highly unusual for a Yin to suffer from widow’s wasting without their partner actually dying, even more so for it to settle so quickly. Her reaction is akin to someone who had never left their mate’s side for years.” Baizhu explains.

You trusted him.

And he turned his back on you.

What have I done?

“In any casssse, it’ssss not too late.” Changsheng’s little voice pipes in. Baizhu keeps leading the way and Zhongli follows, though he obviously knows the entire palace like the palm of his hand, at the moment his thoughts are scattered and far far away.

“She needs her mate’s reassurance. I have done what I can with medicine but this is a bonded pair matter.” Finally, he stops at a juncture and turns to Zhongli. “Please, your majesty, only you can save her. I will tell Ganyu, Xiao and Ping of the situation, and if you need anything, just ask.”

Zhongli nods, mute.

The snake narrows her eyes. “Don’t leave her sssside.”

“Changsheng.” Baizhu shushes.

She is right to chastise him. He deserves that and more.

“I won’t.” Zhongli nods and heads down the hall.

Widow’s wasting.

The words echo in his head. He’s seen the damage it can do. How a broken bond, the loss of the most important person, can destroy someone inside. Did you really care that much about him? Did he really hurt you that badly?

“Please…”

He didn’t mean to.

“I have the best mate in the world.”

He feels like a monster.

“I want to stay with you. Sleep together. Like mates.”

He needs to see you. He needs to make sure you’re ok…

He stands in front of the nest room. The same one where he first met you.

Opening the doors only slightly to slip inside, Zhongli's eyes widen and a hand flies to cover his nose and mouth when a strong smell shakes him to his very core.

The room he expected to be completely saturated with intense heat pheromones… instead bears the acrid scent of despair.

This isn’t the lustful call to breed and have children that made an omega vulnerable and pliant. No. It is a desperate cry from a heartbroken omega for their mate to come back, to stay with them, to love and protect them. It is grief.

You are suffering because of him.

To think all this time… he was afraid he'd make you uncomfortable. That he’d scare you, hurt you, ruin the bond you’ve carefully built. Instead, he is overcome by an all-consuming terror. Every part of him screaming at his mate's weak essence.

And there you are, his precious treasure, his sweet dragoness.

You lay curling in on yourself letting out small muffled sobs.

“Y/n…” 

No reaction.

“Darling, my dear dragoness…” He rushes up to you immediately, grabs your hand and pets your hair. You look so weak, your skin is feverish, how has it only been three days? It feels like a lifetime…

You shift a little and your eyes blink open, staring at him dazed, red and puffy and your expression defeated. You let out a pitiful whine and more of that bitter sad scent is released. 

“No my dear, don’t cry, I’m here. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” Zhongli coos as he curls up to you, frantically starting to scent and nip at your neck and shoulders affectionately. His horns manifest and his tail follows through, lashing about a little restless. The bond… feels wrong, broken. He should be able to intimately feel you this close and yet…

He tries to reposition you a little so you can lie on top of him, rest on his chest. It’s concerning how easily he can do so, you’re like a ragdoll in his arms, unresponsive and unmoving. His hands cup your face, thumbs rubbing at the traces of tears in your cheeks. You let out a frustrated whimper. “Shhhh shh it’s okay. I’m so sorry.”

Even if he says it a million times, it won’t feel enough.

Zhongli nuzzles at your neck and proceeds to do something he hasn’t done since he was practically a teen. He purrs. It’s a little rusty, comes off more as a grumbling but it seems to work as he feels you relax just slightly in his arms.

“I’m right here” Zhongli’s deep voice assures you, tugging you closer, mouthing at the soft skin along your collarbone. “I’m not going anywhere and I’m all yours, I promise, I promise. I won’t leave you alone, not ever.” He soothes.

He lowers a bit of your clothes at the shoulder and grazes his fangs along your faded mark, you tense and let out a long shaky breath.

“Everything will be ok.” He kisses the spot. “I’m sorry.”

And then he sinks his fangs in to reestablish the claim.

You cry out in pain and squirm, clawing at his clothes, but he holds you, his hand rubbing circles at your back, his tail intertwining with yours.

...

.....

...

At first nothing changes, but after a few moments… a low strained purr bubbles up from within you again.

#genshin x you #genshin x reader #zhongli x reader #zhongli x you #genshin impact x you #genchin impact x reader #genshin imagines #genshin impact imagines #crys writes #fem reader #LohK #minors dni #just in case #me: it gets worse #also me: //reader is dying and it's zhongli's fault woops #we have his pov now about the first meeting #a bit of his feelings!! #see I really hope I did a decent job showing his thoughts/side bc I don't want him to come off as “suddenly Zl is being stubborn/a jerk” fo #he has valid concerns about the relationship and yes he had good intentions #shoutout to Baizhu best doctor and changsheng for having zero chill #Ping voice of reason #despair and grief are such hardcore words I love how hard they go here

[riacte]

I feel like Ren and Martyn miss their Dogwarts days in different ways because it’s like… Ren missed what it was. Being king. Having a loyal right hand man. Having an army. Protecting his friends. Building a strong fortress. Having a purpose to fight for.

It’s like how Ren was so sad in his first days in Last Life because he was all alone, then went and dramatically declared his loyalty to the Fairy Queen Lizzie not unlike how Martyn declared his loyalty in Third Life. With the Fairy Fort, he had a faction to fight for, a queen to protect. He felt like he belonged somewhere. He liked building his watchtower, liked making the secret basement, liked organising meetings with his faction. He may not be King anymore, but he’s still furiously protecting his friends.

Then came Double Life. Ren was ecstatic that his soulbound was BigB (“best friends forever, baby!”) because they could belong to each other. Ren set up an intimidating fortress (“Box”) to protect them, not unlike Dogwarts’ walls. He desperately wanted things to work with BigB (even though he found a secret soulmate in Martyn), and even did marriage therapy with him. They were loyal to each other. Ren very much liked the idea of people being loyal to each other. Of course, he ended up tangled up with Martyn in every life anyway, because he provided him with what Ren liked. Loyalty, theatrics, and trust.

But Martyn? Martyn missed who it was.

Even in the Southernlands, Martyn always kept an eye out for Ren. He gave Ren netherwart, put out his fire, and for what? In Double Life, Martyn did kind of try to be allies with his soulbound, but he wasn’t very good at it. Martyn didn’t miss being loyal to a partner. He missed Ren. And while Mean Gills was more functional than DL Martyn and Cleo, Martyn still backstabbed (a willing) Scott in the end. And spent his entire red life with the Red Winter scarf around him. And monologued about being an unguided hand, how he cried so hard when Ren died it shattered his soul, and his last thoughts before he died was literally Ren at the altar.

So maybe Ren never left Dogwarts as a faction, an organisation, and home. But it was Martyn who truly never left Ren’s side. Ren missed having a home. Martyn missed Ren, because Ren was home.

#trafficblr #rendog #inthelittlewood #renchanting #treebark #ria.txt

[fursasaida]

Emma Saltzberg: Your book chronicles a longstanding struggle over public opinion in the American Jewish world. What are the top-level conclusions you draw from this history?

Geoffrey Levin: The first big takeaway is that this history of American Jewish concern for Palestinian rights isn’t something that started yesterday, or even in the ’60s or ’70s. It goes back to 1948. As long as there has been a Palestinian refugee issue, there has been American Jewish concern for Palestinians, especially coming from Jews who spent a lot of time in the region and were deeply exposed to Israel and to the Palestinians. The second is that this American Jewish engagement with Palestinian rights was frequently influenced by state actors. Sometimes it was the Arab League [an organization of Arab states formed in 1945 to advance their shared interests], sometimes it was the CIA—but most often it was the Israeli government. I uncover this long record of Israeli diplomats trying to manage American Jewish discourse. And the last key point is that American Jewish groups were having nuanced and complicated debates in this period, as early as the ’30s, about the relationship between anti-Zionism and antisemitism. A lot of the groups that are arguing today that there’s a strong overlap between those two things, like the AJC and the Reform movement, didn’t hold that position 70 years ago.

[...]

ES: You also write about some Jewish figures whose anti-nationalist position led them to maintain their opposition to Israel’s creation even after 1948.

GL: A more extreme version of the AJC’s position emerged through the American Council for Judaism, which was an anti-Zionist group originally formed by Reform Jewish thinkers. Before and after ’48, they were against the creation of a Jewish state, but they were not focused on the Palestinian question initially. They opposed Israel because of their anti-nationalism, thinking the state would be bad for Jews. These anti-Zionists were focused on keeping Zionism and Israeli and Hebrew culture from dominating American Jewish life. They were concerned that doing so diverted American Jewish loyalties. Yet ultimately, some within the American Council for Judaism, mostly leaders like Rabbi Elmer Berger who had a lot of exposure to Palestinians themselves, did become strong advocates of Palestinian rights. And then they got kind of nudged out of the organization.

ES: You tell the story of Breira, an anti-occupation Zionist group founded in 1973 that tried to advocate for Palestinian rights in this context of increased Jewish nationalism. What happened to them?

GL: Breira was the first national American Jewish group arguing for what we now call the two-state solution. The leaders had gone to Israel and heard from Israeli leftists and had become convinced that Palestinians couldn’t be ignored forever. They framed themselves as nice Jewish boys and girls—people who wanted what’s best for Israel and for Jewish politics. And every chance they could, they highlighted Israeli voices. But they still ended up getting eviscerated as “Jews for Fatah”—Fatah being the leading PLO [Palestine Liberation Organization] faction—after just a couple of members met with a few moderate members of the PLO. It was an early example of how no matter how much American Jews who want to recognize Palestinian rights try to burnish their Jewish and even Israeli credentials, people will push against that and question their Jewish identity. And that hurt people a lot. A lot of those figures in Breira could have contributed a lot more to the future of the American Jewish community, but they felt really burned.

ES: As you note in the book, some analysts today describe American Jews’ increased criticism of Israel and Zionism as a product of distancing from Israel. But, as the Breira story shows, this stance is often a product of very close engagement with Israel.

GL: I think this is crucial. Millennial and Gen Z Jews who are involved in the Jewish community are far more likely to have gone to Israel than people of older generations, because of all these newer subsidized programs, like Birthright. They are far more likely to have met Israeli shlichim [young adult “emissaries” from Israel] through camp or through campus Hillel, and far more likely to watch Israeli stuff on YouTube and enjoy Israeli cuisine. Younger Jews are far more likely to know Palestinians as well. In contrast, many in earlier generations may have had more positive views toward Israel, but less deep engagement with the actual place and the people living there, both Israelis and Palestinians.

In my book, those from the earlier generations who engaged with Palestinian rights did spend a lot of time over there. They knew Hebrew. When they were advocating for Palestinian rights, whether that meant self-determination, or civil rights for minorities in Israel, or a different approach toward Palestinian refugees, they often came to those conclusions from going there and talking to Israelis and talking to Palestinians.

ES: Why is it important to know this history, as we contemplate different American Jewish responses to Israel’s onslaught on Gaza today?

GL: The characters in this story are people that a lot of experts haven’t heard of before. By unearthing these stories, I show how seriously people were thinking through some of these same questions 70 years ago. I think that one of the most important chapters is this one where I am able to use the archives to put a Palestinian voice at the forefront. Fayez Sayegh was struggling to find a way that was acceptable in American public discourse to talk about Palestinian issues and Arab issues. I think it’s important to write these people back into history, because they were so eager to change the discourse.

These people all kind of failed; they were pushed out. The critical American Jews were fired. I think a lot of American Jews thought the problems would just go away. And I can’t tell you that we would have had peace if the dissenting voices had succeeded. But I do think if they had been successful in getting a more open discourse within the Jewish community 70 years ago, that we would probably be in a healthier place right now, both in terms of the American Jewish community and American discourse more broadly.

#USA #israel #palestine #zionism #jewish antizionism

[cerberusxt]

Warhammer 40k & Age of Sigmar – Trans Pride series !

My other big pride project, with the pride marine series ! The goal here is to paint one representative for each of the Warhammer40k and Age of Sigmar universes faction using the Trans Pride flag color scheme.

I’ve already done 11 factions (12 to be exact, the Ork I finished lately isn’t on the group picture yet).

Pictured above, from left to right :

Banshee (Nightaunt – AOS)

Horrmagaunt (Tyranids – W40k)

Spiritseer (Eldar – W40k)

Drone (Tau – W40k)

Cadian Castellan (Astra Militarum – W40k)

Reiver Space Marine (Adeptus Astartes – W40k)

Royal Warden (Necron – W40k)

Plague Marine (Death Guard – W40k)

Palatine (Adepta Sororita – W40k

Skitarii Marshall (Adeptus Mechanicus – W40k)

Xandria Azurebolt (Stormcast – AOS)

And a Warboss in Mega Armour I will post here later, probably.

Project Origins

For those who are wondering why I started this project, it’s pretty simple.

Everything started with a single model (obviously), the Horrmagaunt. I was trying to find an interesting gift idea for a close friend and, remembering that friend love the Tyrannids, I thought of painting them a little bugger. Since I wanted that gift to be even more personal, I decided to use colors that would be really meaningful to them, the trans pride flag colors. It was a first, since, up until that moment, I almost exclusively painted classic schemes (imperial Fists, blood angels, salamanders, etc...).

Here was the result :

As you can see, my goal when translating flag colors on a mini isn’t to reproduce the flag 1 for 1, but to evoke it as naturally and logically as possible.

To be perfectly honest, when I started that little gift, I wasn’t entirely convinced the result would be all that great. After all, it was first and foremost more about the meaning behind the colors than anything else. But oooooooh boy was I wrong because, as the kids says, « that shit slaps yo » or something. I don’t know, I’m not a kid anymore !!

But one thing was certain, I fell in love with that scheme and couldn’t wait painting it again.

So, that’s what I did, that time with a Space Marine seeing those are my personal favorites. And once again, I was really pleased with the end result :

Also look at them, being best friend forever, woooooh !

You can easily guess what’s next. I simply had to try that scheme on basically everything, so I started the project of doing it on every faction !

Hell, I had so much fun painting such an unusual scheme, and having to find ways to integrate it logically on a mini, that it's the reason I started another project in parallel, the pride marine one, to try and see if the other pride flag schemes would work as well as the trans pride flag (guess what : not a single one of the scheme I tried disappointed me, even if I have favorites).

Anyway, if you want to try that scheme on your minis and need some inspiration / guidance, here is the recipe I use for the 3 main colors of the flag. Have fun !

#miniature painting #warhammer 40k #warhammercommunity #lgbt pride #lgbtq #miniatures #trans pride #age of sigmart #adeptus astartes #drukhari #astra militarum #adeptus mechanicus

[callmeagardengnome]

𓆩 bless me 𓆪 - chapter 1

w.c - 2.2k

pairings - demon!ateez ot8 x receptionist! fem! reader

genre - demon au, hint of royal au, possible yandere themes (?), romance

sypnosis: as hell’s receptionist, you only wished to talk shit and stay out of trouble. yet, you happened to be the one that the two social clans in hell start fighting for.

not proofread!

previous / next

masterlist

Click clack. Click clack. You’ve gotten used to the sounds of keyboard typing. Why wouldn’t you be after hearing it everyday for almost 4 centuries?

As Hell’s receptionist, your job was to check in arrivals daily. A new soul arrives, another contract is signed and they are officially Hell’s inhabitant forever. It’s a pretty simple task, one that you’ve learned to appreciate. Unfortunately for you, the job comes with another responsibility.

You have the ‘lovely’ privilege of listening and attending to complaints. From the wails of the Dead to the petty protests of demons, your days are filled with discontent and irritancy.

As thrilling as it sounds, you find yourself being bored most of the time. Nothing exciting ever happens. You hear the same complaints everyday - all yap yap yap. You could not care less about soothing the Dead or settling another demon squabble.

Today felt no different, the neon red sign flickered above your desk, signalling that someone was entering your office space. You straightened your posture and adjusted your nameplate that read, “Receptionist of the Damned.”

Your eyes scanned over to your visitor and you immediately recoiled in disgust, “Ugh.. please leave the air that I’m breathing.”

“Come on.. haven’t I seen you enough times that we’re basically best friends?” the demon in front of you asked as he batted his eyelashes.

Wooyoung, the most annoying demon you’ve ever met, leaned over your desk with his signature smirk plastered on his face.

“Sir, you look like my sleep paralysis demon. Please leave my office,” you said sternly as you signalled to the door.

“My dear receptionist, you wound me..” he pouted dramatically, not taking your words seriously at all. “At least listen to what I have to say...”

You sighed. “It’s another complaint about the Eternals isn’t it-“

“You know it is,” Wooyoung sneered, his voice dripping with disdain, contrasting his playful personality earlier.

To put it simply, Hell has three social factions:

The highest faction - The Eternals. They are royalty, demons that need to be treated with the utmost respect. They’re the richest demons that you would find in Hell. Eternals have purple horns, ones that reached high above their heads, almost touching each other. While their horns could be used to distinguish them, their snobbish and stuck-up personality was more than enough.

The lowest faction - The Halas. If you were born a Hala, you’ve lost all hope of having a calm life. A Hala would have stubby red horns and sharp fangs. Despite making up 97% of the demon population, a Hala gets the worst treatment out of the three social factions - mainly due to their aggressive personalities. Most of them are poor and extremely money-hungry. Since they are greedy, they don’t normally make friends with each other. In fact, a Halas’ death mostly happens due to their own kind.

Last but not least, your own faction - The Walkers. The Walkers are typically neutral in everything. Money, social treatment, et cetera. Walkers have jet black horns, almost like the colour of soot. The Walkers are the rarest social class. They are in every government-related job as they are considered ‘impartial’. Having a connection with a Walker is vital for your social class to be stronger.

Money, surprisingly, was an important aspect in Hell. It allowed you to buy a house, have a family or spend it on gambling. It was sought for by so many that it had led to many riots in the past.

Wooyoung was a Hala, with a burning hatred for Eternals. His resentment towards them grew every time he visited, a fire that never seemed to burn out. “They think they can own everything,” he continued, his voice laced with anger. “They walk all over our territory with their big ass boots and claim it as theirs.”

You nodded, taking mental notes. It was a familiar complaint, yet there was more rage since his previous visit. “I’ll file your case, Wooyoung. But you know the process- it would take at least two weeks.”

Wooyoung scoffed, crossing his arms. “We don’t have time. You don’t understand- the Halas are planning a revolt.”

A revolt? His words caught you off guard and for the first time in a while, you felt surprised. Having a revolt is startling enough - but Halas revolting? It was unheard of to have them working together for a cause. You quickly shook off the feelings of shock and composed yourself.

“That’s a very bold claim.. but I’m confused of why you’re so worried. I thought you liked chaos?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

Wooyoung’s expression darkened, the usual glint in his eyes disappearing. “Chaos? Yes. But this? This is destruction, ‘____’. The Eternals will soon crush us and tear Hell apart. That includes you.”

You leaned back into your chair, the weight of his words dawning on you at full force. A revolt of this scale would disrupt all of the progress that has been built over the centuries.

You sighed as you ran your fingers through your hair. “If I file this case under ‘urgent’, its going to attract a lot of attention. The kind that gets me in a lot of trouble.”

Wooyoung leaned closer to you, grabbing your jaw. He pulled your ear closer to his mouth, making sure that you heard every word he said.

“I don’t care if you get in trouble- I’m not asking you to take sides. All I’m asking is for you to understand that this isn’t another petty complaint. This is our survival. The Halas can’t take this shit anymore.”

Complaints in Hell were rarely put under ‘urgent’. Since you had all the time in the world, you had no reason to put a complaint in that section. Also, adding a complaint there also meant that journalists and news outlets could view it - drawing attention to the whole ordeal.

You took a deep breath, thinking through your options carefully. You always prided yourself on remaining impartial but the severity of the situation at hand made you think otherwise.

“Fine.. I’ll do it,” you caved. “But you need to keep things calm on your end.”

Wooyoung smirked, stepping back from your desk. “Anything for my dear receptionist.”

Your face morphed in horror as he blew a kiss to you before leaving the room. You mulled over the whole situation that just came to light. This wasn’t just another day in Hell, it was the beginning of something way more sinister.

You typed out a formal complaint about the situation, the sounds of the keyboard being more overwhelming than usual.

You printed it out, giving it your stamp of approval - a kiss stain. You walked over to the other side of your office and finally dropped the paper into the ‘urgent’ chute.

“Sire, look at this,” Duke Seonghwa said while holding a newspaper article in his hands.

The lord looked up from his desk, his interest piqued. Seonghwa’s expression was unusually troubled and the urgency in his voice made it possible to ignore. He took the newspaper, his eyes scanning the headline.

“This can’t be true..” the lord muttered, his face darkened as he read further.

“The Halas have gotten bolder,” Seonghwa continued. “We cannot afford dismiss this as a another rumour.”

The lord’s eyes flicked back to Seonghwa’s, “Summon the rest here immediately, we need to address this.”

“Yes my lord,” Seonghwa replied, bowing slightly before scurrying off to find the others.

The lord reread the newspaper article again, fingers gripping the pages harder and harder, almost tearing them.

As the leader of the Eternals and the King of Hell, Lord Hongjoong knew that maintaining power was his absolute priority. Any threat to his title would not be taken lightly.

Not long after you filed the complaint, the atmosphere in your office shifted. The temperature seemed to drop and an eerie silence took over your surroundings. The neon red sign above your desk started to flicker violently.

The doors burst open with a deafening crash and several Eternals stormed in with their purple horns glistening ominously in the dim light.

“Receptionist!” a voice boomed, making you freeze in your place. “Explain this!” the demon held a crumpled newspaper article in front of you.

You kept your expression neutral, “General Mingi, that is a concern brought forth by a Hala.”

Mingi’s eyes narrowed as he took a step closer, “This isn’t just a ‘concern’, they’re revolting. How could you standby something this preposterous?”

The other demons behind him murmured in agreement. The air in the room grew thick with tension and you could feel their rage simmering from beneath their composed state.

“I’m not standing by the Halas, General,” you replied calmly. “It’s in everyone’s best interest to address the issue than to escalate it. Ignoring it could lead to disorder.”

Mingi wrinkled his nose, his words sharp and filled with malice, “Know your place, Walker. You’re here to serve, not test our authority.”

He signaled his troop with a flick of the wrist and they began to walk of the room, stepping on the debris they created.

You let out a deep sigh. You were relieved that they left you alone. However, you knew that the Eternals would go above and beyond to get their way.

For centuries, the Eternals have been known in their attempts to get rid of the Halas. The Eternals believed that the Halas were unworthy of sharing the same realm as them. To them, the Halas were a stain in an otherwise perfect Hell.

Efforts to rid the Halas have been unsuccessful, after all, they did make up for the majority of the population. Due to their population size, it had been getting tougher to assign jobs fairly to each of them.

Even as Hell’s receptionist, you’re unable to do much for the issue. All you could do was file complaints that angered someone. You found yourself caught in the middle, witnessing a storm brewing right in front of your eyes.

You filed a maintenance complaint, hoping that your door would get fixed by next day. You gathered your things and quickly dashed out of the door - at the end of the day, you wouldn’t want to get jumped by a demon, would you?

As you scurried back home, weaving through the streets, you felt someone grab your hand before dragging you to a dark alleyway.

“What the-“

“What are you trying to pull, Walker?” the hooded figure hissed as he pinned you to the wall.

You scoffed. “Who do you think you are?” With a swift motion, you kicked the figure in the stomach, causing him to release his hold. Taking the chance, you reached up and yanked his hood down, revealing his identity.

“Duke?” you exclaimed in surprise when you saw Seonghwa’s face.

You’ve never seen the Duke in real life, only in photographs - which did not do his gorgeous features justice. He always stood next to Lord Hongjoong, rarely leaving his side. “What are you doing out of the palace? I thought you were the king’s boy-toy?” you asked with a smirk.

“Don’t talk to me like that, Walker,” he spat out, his voice oozing with venom. “Don’t defy me.”

“I’ll ‘defy’ anyone that drags me to a random alley,” you retorted.

With a snarl, he lunged forward, throwing a punch at your face. You ducked in time, feeling the wind from his fist that nearly hit his target. You countered with a kick to his shin, causing him to stumble back with a curse.

He went at you again, his movements fuelled by fury. You dodged his blows with ease - each strike he aimed at you slowly getting more aggressive.

You finally saw an opening. You managed to catch him off guard and delivered a powerful punch to the gut, leaving him gasping for air. As he staggered back in pain, you took a step back, preparing yourself for whatever he would do next.

Surprisingly, he stayed down. His hands clutched his stomach and he wheezed for breath. For a moment, the alleyway was filled with the sounds of his laboured breathing. Did you really hit him that hard?

“Shit- how are you so strong?” he coughed out, his eyes meeting yours with a mix of shame and respect.

“I thought it was common knowledge that all Walkers are trained in combat,” you replied, confused. “And I’m not that good.. I think you’re just weak..”

Seonghwa flipped you off before you threw him a mini med-kit that you carried with you at all times.

“I’d prefer it if you didn’t tell anyone about this,” you said. “It’s not only bad for me- it’s embarrassing for you. You challenged a Walker to a fight without any skills.”

He rolled his eyes in annoyance as he gave a small nod. Seonghwa started to patch himself up, placing band-aids over the scratches on his body.

You gave him a sly grin, “Sit still and look pretty next time.” With a cackle, you decided to take your leave. You didn’t know whether Seonghwa contacted his friends and you didn’t want to risk getting caught by staying longer.

You bolted home, clutching your bag close to yourself. Despite the turn of events today, you couldn’t help but feel a rush of adrenaline. Things were becoming too boring in Hell - maybe a revolt is necessary.

author’s note: please make sure to support my fic - all likes and reposts are much appreciated. any feedback is welcome <3

feel free to ask if you want to be on a taglist!

series taglist - @binchanluvrr @hiddlestandom @avantalem @hecateslittlewitchling @iarayara @thunderous-wolf

#gnomeo 🥫 #gnomeo🥫writes #ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez fic #ateez x reader #atz #atz x reader #atz fanfic #atz fic #ateez ot8 #ateez ot8 x reader #hongjoong #seonghwa #yunho #yeosang #ateez san #mingi #wooyoung #jongho

[vibrantbirdy]

Hiii. Firstly, I just want to say how much I LOVE your work. I think you’re fantastic!

I was hoping to request an Obi-Wan Kenobi x Senator or Princess female reader (always a sucker for this). Maybe Clone wars or pre- ending of Revenge of the Sith. Peppered with Obi-Wan denying his feelings for the sake of the Jedi code, and then confessing true emotions in the Kenobi series era. (gotta love angst with some feels after a whole lot of yearning).

Thank you so much 💙

Thank you so much for your kind words and this wonderful request. I was so excited to write for Obi-Wan as it's been years since I have, and it's really cool to write for him in the wake of the Kenobi series. So thank you for this lovely prompt and I hope this is the sort of thing you were looking for.

(Requests for Character x Reader fics are currently open in my Asks. Please read the guidelines first.)

(Masterlist of my fics can be found here.)

Title: Relics Fandom: Star Wars: The Skywalker Saga Setting: Pre the Phantom Menace to post the Kenobi Series. Genres: Sci-fi; Romance; Minor Angst Warnings: mild/moderate sexuality; mild references to Reader family losses due to old age; mild references to the Empire being baddies and doing baddie things Pairing: Obi-Wan Kenobi x Princess Female Reader Chapters: 1/1 (Complete) Word Count: c.5k Author's Note: It's late and I need to proofread this properly, sorry for any mistakes in the mean time!

Summary: You and Obi-Wan Kenobi have a connection that spans decades as your lives intersect throughout the years. Will you find each other again in the most unlikely of places?

Now

Inevitably, the Empire discovered that you have been siphoning off funds to various Rebel factions across the Galaxy for years. As Queen of Vitis, you planned to stay on your home world and face the consequences of defying the Imperial tyrants with your people.

But your Bodyguard, loyal to a fault, had other ideas. The night before an Imperial delegation was set to arrive, your Captain of the Guard, Old Paltrum, hired a bounty hunter to abduct you from your chambers in the middle of the night and drop you off somewhere "safe." This apparently meant any random, obscure world in the Outer Rim of the mercenary's choosing.

Seemingly, the desert planet of Tatooine was the farthest flung rock in the Galaxy that the brute could think of.

At night, you dream of home. Of Vitis. A beautiful planet, full of lush forests and green meadows where wildflowers gleam through the grass like little jewels.

Too often, these dreams turn to nightmares and you watch, helpless, as the rivers run red with the blood of your people and the Imperial flag flies like Death's victory banner above the royal citadel.

You fear you'll forever be known as the Vitisian Queen who abandoned her subjects in their most desperate hour of need.

Tatooine is not like home. The heat during the day is a constant, inescapable blanket of oppression. No matter what you do, the sand works its way into your eyes, between your teeth, into your clothes and tracks its way all the way through the small one room home you managed to purchase with the few credits Paltrum obviously appropriated for you from the palace treasury. And you are always so thirsty, no matter how much water you consume.

Still, you have been on the desert planet for almost three months now, and despite your belligerent determination not to, you are beginning to settle and acclimatise. Slowly.

You like Tatooine best in the evening, just as dusk falls. It's cooler and there is a rare, strange beauty to be found as the twin suns set in the sky which turns from blood red to pink to purple and finally to a deep, midnight blue.

You make your living selling the clothing you make at the stall you have acquired in the market in Mos Eisley. It is mid-afternoon when you catch sight of a man you know walking across the far side of the square. You jump up from your stool, knocking it over in your haste and sending your weaving unravelling to the floor.

Ducking and weaving and apologising to the people you bump into, you track the man making his way across the market through the obstructions of clothing and clutter and trinkets hanging from the stalls of your neighbours' and your own.

Your heart leaps. It is him. Obi-Wan Kenobi.

What is he doing here? Of all places.

You want to run to him, to call out his name but something stops you.

He looks older. Of course he does, it's been over a decade since you last saw him. But that's not it.

The Obi-Wan you remember carried himself with a charismatic air of confidence which, on other men, could easily have been perceived as arrogance. But Kenobi was always able to temper this with his good humour and dignified manner.

Now, he looks downtrodden, smaller, as if he's been on Tatooine so long that the years have started to grind him into the sand. His once well kempt hair and beard are scruffy and his dirty, torn clothes are little more than rags.

You are suddenly struck by the idea that he might not want you to see him like this. Then, you think about what happened to the Jedi Order and the rumoured purge said to have been commanded by the Emperor himself.

Obi-Wan must be in exile or in hiding. Just like you.

With this revelation, you are paralysed by indecision. By the time you come to the realisation that you can't let this chance to reunite with him slip away, he is already gone.

***************************************************

30 years ago

The Republic have sent a diplomatic envoy to Vitis to discuss with leading politicians from the surrounding worlds the increasing Separatist pressure on the system's trade routes. The delegation of two Jedi, Master Qui-Gon Jinn and his young apprentice, Obi-Wan Kenobi, arrive at the Vitisian royal citadel early in the morning.

Although you really think you should be sitting at the table with the other delegates, you've reluctantly agreed with the wishes of your parents, the King and Queen, to show Obi-Wan the palace grounds and some of the countryside beyond.

He's a young man about your age, probably eighteen or nineteen. Upon first introduction, you get the distinct impression that he feels like he should be present at the discussions too. But, following a brief period of stilted conversation as you lead him through the palace and out into the lush gardens, it quickly becomes apparent that you and Obi-Wan just click. Any interest in trade or commerce is soon forgotten by both of you.

When he speaks, his pronunciation is clipped and proper, but his voice is full of a charming vitality. He has a graceful, purposeful physicality and moves his body with a self-assuredness many young men his age don't seem to possess quite yet. And he's handsome. He has an open, honest face with well-proportioned features, adored with two impossibly bright blue eyes. He has sandy coloured hair which, apart from a small pony tail at the back of his head and a long, thin braid that runs down behind his ear and to his chest, is cropped short.

As you walk through Vitis's lush, green surroundings together, the conversations flows easily. You notice that he has a perpetual, good-natured smirk on his face, as if he constantly has an amusing quip on the tip of his tongue. Sometimes he speaks these out loud and his blue eyes twinkle with mischief.

His little barbs are never unkind. In fact, you find it refreshing, the way he makes you think on your feet in an effort to fire out your own witty retorts.

One time, you're too slow to think of anything clever to say, so all you can think to do is to pull, gently, at the strange braid affixed to the side of his head.

"What's this?"

What's what?" He asks with mock ignorance, and you shove him playfully.

"It's my Padawan braid," he explains, "It signifies that I'm not yet a Jedi. Once I've completed the trials, I'll cut it off as part of the ceremony when I become a Knight."

"Oh," you say, faltering.

It all sounds rather meaningful and symbolic.

"I'm sorry, maybe I shouldn't have..."

He smiles reassuringly.

"It's ok, I have a bad habit of tugging at it myself when I'm nervous."

Hours have passed and you've wandered all the way through the grounds as far as the great lake before either of you notice the time. You take the short cut back through the woods and past the gargantuan Whispering Tree, which stands sentinel like a great, leafy guardian on the border of the royal forest.

Obi-Wan stops to admire the tree, his eyes following its massive trunk and he cranes his neck in a futile attempt to try and get a glimpse of the top as it disappears into the canopy. The tree is putting on a magnificent show today. Its peculiar white leaves are dazzling in the sunlight and the pale silver bark shines like precious metal.

"What is it?" he asks, his voice filled with awe, "I've never seen a tree like it."

"It's called the Whispering Tree because of the noise it makes in the wind. It sounds like someone speaking. It's the only one left of its kind - a white Vitisian Birch. Traditionally, first born royal daughters are charged with its care," you run a hand against the smooth bark fondly," and that happens to be me."

Obi-Wan smiles almost absent-mindedly as he presses his palm against the tree and closes his eyes.

"Are you talking to it? Using the Force?" You ask, excitedly, "What's it saying?"

"That's not how it works," he chuckles, but he stops immediately as he sees your cheeks redden and realises that you're embarrassed.

"Uh, but if it could talk," he continues, earnestly, "It would say that it feels very lucky to have someone like you to care for it."

You beam widely at him and, unable to stop yourself, you lean in and plant an impulsive kiss on his lips. At first, he stiffens, his eyes wide in surprise, but then he seems to melt into you and you feel a thrill of excitement course through you as his lips start to move against yours.

"Obi-Wan!" A stern voice makes you both jump and you leap away from each other as if you've been electrocuted.

The tall figure of Obi-Wan's mentor is striding towards where you are standing at the tree line, his Jedi robes and long silver hair billowing in the breeze together making him seem even bigger and more imposing.

"Master Qui-Gon..."

"You were supposed to escort the Princess to dinner an hour ago!"

"I know, Master, I'm sorry..."

Obi-Wan starts to explain, but Qui-Gon Jinn cuts him off abruptly.

"I don't want to hear it."

Side by side, you and Obi-Wan traipse silently back to the palace behind Master Jinn. You find yourself having to scurry to keep up with his long strides, but Obi-Wan appears to be used to it.

He looks rather crestfallen following Qui-Gon's admonishment, and you reach out to touch the back of his hand lightly with your own. At first, he doesn't look at you, instead just allowing the corners of his mouth to lift slightly as he runs his knuckles back and forth against your own.

Then, you exchange a sheepish, secret smile, behind Master Jinn's back, before breaking the touch and you both return your gaze to the ground with suitably chastised expressions.

--------------------------------------------------------

It becomes apparent over dinner that Master Jinn, mercifully, has not informed your parents of your little indiscretion with Obi-Wan. You don't know what story he has concocted to explain your tardiness, but you are grateful for it.

Over the course of the evening, as you observe him, you realise that Qui-Gon Jinn is a kind man. Although he appears slightly terse with Obi-Wan to begin with, his manner softens as time goes on and to you, the relationship between the two Jedi seems almost akin to that of father and son.

Although you still feel a guilty, watching the two Jedi helps soothe your worries that Obi-Wan might face some severe reprimand on account of your actions.

Soon, it is time to see the guests off and the Jedi delegation is last to leave. You take advantage of the long conversation Master Jinn and your father apparently couldn't possibly have finished over dinner to say goodbye to Obi-Wan.

"I'm sorry, did you get in trouble?" You say quickly and quietly into his ear as you give him a formal, chaste kiss farewell on the cheek. "Yes, but it was worth it," he whispers back and a wide, boyish grin spreads across his face as he pulls away.

You can't do anything other than return it, and you look at each other for just a moment longer before he gives you a courteous nod of his head.

"Goodbye, Princess."

"Goodbye, Obi-Wan."

********************************************************

Now

You next see Obi-Wan a few weeks after your first glimpse of him at the market.

You almost approach him this time, but again, something holds you back.

He is heading towards Mos Eisley's space port and he has a more purposeful stride to his walk than when you last saw him.

Yet it's still not the walk of the composed, dignified man you once knew. In fact, his sense of urgency seems alarmingly close to panic.

Presumably, he is going off-world for some reason. He's not carrying much with him.

You hope he'll be back.

******************************************************** 12 years ago You are arriving on Coruscant, the sprawling city covered planet at the heart of the Galaxy, the seat of the Republic's power. Your father has sent you to make a representation to the Senate to officially declare an end to Vitis's neutrality.

It's not what you or your people want. But the Separatists have been pushing in on Vitisian interests on all sides in the past several months, disrupting trade routes, placing droid garrisons on nearby worlds, even muscling in on mineral mining operations on several moons within the Vitisian system. There is now really is very little choice. Vitis needs the protection of the Republic.

As you step off your ship, Obi-Wan Kenobi, now a Jedi Master, strides across the landing platform to greet you. You are so high up it gives the impression that the Coruscant sun which hangs large and low and golden in the sky behind you is about to swallow you whole. There is a strong breeze, which catches your hair and sends the flowing train of your green travelling dress snaking into the air like an emerald river.

Obi-Wan has grown into a fine looking man, tall and broad shouldered. He is clothed in traditional Jedi attire, a long brown robe draped elegantly over a cream tunic, fawn pants, and knee length, brown leather boots. His sandy hair is neatly cropped at the back and sides, with more length on the top and he had grown a distinguished golden beard since you last saw him.

"Princess," he says with a warm smile, those piercing blue eyes of his just as full of life as you remember.

"Master Kenobi," you respond, beaming, as he stoops to kiss you on both cheeks.

You'd been concerned that, in the almost two decades since you last saw him, his long years at war in service to the Jedi might have dulled that bright spark you so admired in the young man you once knew.

But you needn't have worried. As he escorts you to your chambers within the accommodation wing of the grand Senate building, you find yourself falling back into easy, cheerful conversation with him, as if no time has passed at all.

Obi-Wan's youthful spirit is still present but it has evolved into a sort of refined, contained exuberance that sits elegantly on him. He is as quick to laughter as ever and the eloquent wit he possessed even as a boy is just as sharp.

----------------------------------------------------------

You are sitting in the lavish parlour of the rooms you've been assigned. It is a fine suite, decorated in bright colours with a beautiful view out across Coruscant's endless cityscape. The arching floor to ceiling windows let in as much natural light at the metropolis' towering spires will allow.

Suddenly, you wonder what it would feel like to kiss Obi-Wan again, now that he has that dashing beard.

"Princess?"

Obi-Wan is standing at the sideboard, holding a steaming teapot and a glass mug out towards you. From the amused, questioning look on his face, you get the distinct impression that he has proffered the beverage more than once.

"I apologise, Master Jedi, I was parsecs away, yes please."

"Oh really?" he asks, conversationally as he drops into the lounge chair opposite you, and hands you the glass vessel across the low, marble table, "Where were you?"

"Well, I was actually thinking about when we first met, do you remember?"

It's not quite a lie.

"How could I forget?" He laughs, "Master Qui-Gon was furious with me."

A shadow of uncharacteristic sadness suddenly passes over his face.

Remembering the rumours you have heard of the violence of Qui-Gon Jinn's death at the hands of a mysterious, fearsome warrior, you put down your tea and reach across the table to take Obi-Wan's hands in yours.

"I was so very sorry to hear about Master Jinn, Obi-Wan," you say kindly.

"Thank you, it was a long time ago now."

He smiles, but it doesn't quite reach his eyes. He squeezes your hands gently before he stands up.

"I'll let you get settled."

Obi-Wan makes for the door and as he reaches for the handle, he turns and grins at you disarmingly.

"It really is very good to see you again, Princess."

----------------------------------------------------

You had only planned to stay on Coruscant for a week. However, politics being as they are, you have ended up staying for much longer.

One day, during a gap in the Senate proceedings, Obi-Wan takes you to visit the magnificent Jedi Temple. He wants to show you the terraced garden, knowing that you are missing the greenery of Vitis.

It is a paradise. You can't believe that at the centre of this endless cityscape is this bubble of serenity. The variety of plants that are grown here, the vibrancy of the colours, the wonderful aroma of a hundred different blossoms all intermingled - it makes you giddy.

You and Obi-Wan stay in the gardens for hours strolling and conversing and sitting together, then strolling some more.

"Strange how so many years have gone by yet I feel as if no time at all has passed between us," you say plainly as soon as the thought pops into your head.

You don't mean it to sound quite so romantic, but then you realise you really don't mind if that's how Obi-Wan choses to interpret it.

"I feel the same," he agrees and you are surprised to see a hint of bashfulness in the smile he offers.

You allow the back of your hand to graze against his. He turns his head and raises his eyebrows at you, an amused smirk of recognition on his face. He runs his knuckles along yours as he once did so many years ago.

Unlike then, Obi-Wan allows his hand to stay resting against yours this time and you walk like that, not quite hand in hand, through the vast gardens of the Temple long after the sun starts to set and the descent of the cool, evening air releases the sweet, heady scent of Coruscanti night blossoms all around you.

-----------------------------------------------------

The month you have spent on Coruscant has been stressful, busy, and filled with difficult negotiations and decisions which weigh heavily upon on you. Your father is in ailing health, ever since the death of your mother, and you know that soon you will be Queen. It is not a thought you relish, but now, at least, you know that when you take the oath to serve your people for the rest of your life as sovereign, you will be able to do so knowing you can hold your own on their behalf in the Rancor's den of the Republic Senate.

Yet, aside from all the worry, this has also been one of the happiest times of your life. When you are not working, and when he is not galivanting off-world on some Jedi business or another, you have spent every moment you can spare with Obi-Wan.

When the time finally comes to leave Coruscant, Obi-Wan volunteers to escort you back to Vitis. You'd sent Paltrum home weeks ago, poor old sod. City air has never agreed with him and you just knew his wife, Ina, would be worried sick about him.

As you finally land back on your home world, it is amid thunder and lightning. It is perhaps the most violent storm you've seen on Vitis in a decade.

You almost can't believe it when you and Obi-Wan step off the ship and see Old Paltrum soaked through, standing sentry at the palace doors.

"Paltrum, get inside, for the love of the Maker!" You scold the ancient Captain as you approach.

Obi-Wan is holding his cloak over your head in a valiant effort to keep you dry, but it is making not one bit of difference and you can feel the water seeping through your travelling clothes and into your bones.

"It's always been my job to watch for you, your Highness, I'm not about to stop now," Paltrum responds indignantly and you feel a pang of guilt for your rather patronising tone.

"I know, thank you, Captain," and you have to shout over the roar of the wind and the lashing rain, "It's late. I'll see my father in the morning, don't disturb him."

"As you wish, my lady," Paltrum says with a gracious nod, and you stifle a laugh as a deluge of water floods off the peak of his cap with the motion.

The Captain turns to Obi-Wan as he opens the huge, ornate doors to let you through.

"Master Kenobi, there are guest quarters ready for you in the east wing."

------------------------------------------------------------

Obi-Wan does not go to the east wing. Instead, you lead him towards your own chambers. Someone, thankfully, has lit a fire in your sitting room and you both sit cross-legged on the rug on the floor as close as is possible next to the roaring flames.

You've each taken off your sodden outerwear. If possible, Obi-Wan looks even more dashing wet through, his light undershirt clinging to his muscled torso underneath.

Neither of you have spoken since you sat down and as you both watch the flames from the fire reflect in the other's eyes, a tension-filled silence fills the room and sets your heart racing until you think it might burst.

When you can bear it no longer and you see no point in prolonging further pretence, you grab Obi-Wan by the front of his shirt and pull him into a kiss. It is not like your first, so many years ago. This is a deep and passionate embrace, full of desire. He responds immediately to your touch this time, his lips crashing almost roughly against yours.

The Jedi's hands are round your waist, at the nape of your neck, the small of your back, tangled up in your hair, seemingly all at once. You start to unbutton the fastenings on his shirt, tearing at them with one hand, while the other travels urgently down his chest towards his abdomen.

Suddenly, Obi-Wan leaps to his feet and turns his back to you, his broad shoulders rising and falling rapidly. As you've seen him do so often in recent weeks, he brings a hand to his face and rubs his beard. You think this new habit has probably replaced the old one of tugging on his Padawan braid.

"Have I upset you?" you ask quietly, the sting of confusion and rejection, worrying its way under your skin.

"No, Princess," his voice is an earnest whisper as he sits back down in front of you, grasping your hands in his, "Never."

"I still dream of that kiss we shared all those years ago," he admits suddenly, his voice low and full of longing.

Obi-Wan cups your face gently in his hands and looks at you, brows furrowed with emotion, his gaze penetrating right through your soul and setting it aflame.

"Now, seeing you again after all these years, I dream of what it would be like to hold you, to share your life, to....share your bed. These past weeks, I have yearned for you, you must know that."

Your foreheads are touching now, your nose presses into his face, and your fingers are suddenly entwined in his wet, golden hair. You can feel his heart raging against his chest as if it is fighting to escape, just as your own is.

"Obi-Wan..." you say, open-mouthed against his cheek, breathless with need for him.

He closes his eyes and brushes his lips against yours, but he doesn't quite allow himself to kiss you. Instead, after a moment of breathing each other in and out, he pulls away gently.

"But that's all they are," his voice has returned to it's usual refined timbre, "I'm sorry, but they are just dreams. It's all I can allow them to be."

His words are like a thousand tiny knives to your heart and you can't help feeling how cruel it was of him to give you hope and then tear it away like that. You stand up sharply and walk to the window, gazing out onto the storm raging across Vitis, a mere spring shower compared to the tumult now roiling within you.

"You must understand, I have pledged my life to the Jedi Order..."

"You were a child when you made that pledge..." you scoff and you despise the bitterness in your own voice.

He walks across the room to join you and puts his hand on your shoulder.

"All the same. It is made. And now we are at war. I have obligations, I have responsibilities to the Order and to the Republic"

You turn to him and place your hands on his broad chest. His heartbeat has slowed and you know you are losing him. It's like he's flicked some internal switch and raised a barrier between you.

"Then let us have each other, just this once," you whisper urgently, emboldened by desire and the fear that this chance to love him as you've always wanted is slipping away forever.

Obi-Wan touches your face and smiles sadly.

"If we did, I would never be able to leave you again, not for a single moment. I would be your prisoner forever."

"Then stay," you plead through tears, even though you already know his answer, "Stay with me."

"I can't."

***********************************************

Now

Obi-Wan Kenobi is sitting on a wall in Mos Eisley's market place. You are pleased to see that he looks much more like his old self. His head is held high and there is a look of calm on his handsome face. The clothes he is wearing are much neater than before, almost reminiscent of his old Jedi robes, and he has tidied up his hair and beard.

You walk towards him, but he doesn't notice you. You don't say his name. Instead, you quietly sit down next to him and let the back of your hand rest against his. You feel the strong tendons there tense.

He doesn't look at you. His head drops, and his eyes close as if he couldn't stand for it not to be you. Lightly, he moves his hand so that his knuckles rub gently against yours.

"Hello old friend," you say.

"Princess."

The use of your old title sounds natural and right on his tongue and you hope he never stops using it.

Obi-Wan finally looks up at you and his eyes, still dazzling shards of icy blue, gleam with tears. You reach out and touch his face, his stubble pleasantly rough under your hand. You take in the lines around his eyes, deeper now, and the distinguished flecks of silver in his beard and hair. The sight of him is more beautiful, more familiar to you than you can bear.

"You still look the same," you say, your voice shaking slightly.

He smiles and turns his face to gently kiss the heel of your palm that is resting against his cheek.

"And you are more radiant than ever."

He helps you take down your market stall early for the day and you take him into your home where you speak for hours in hushed tones and tell each other everything of your lives in the years since you were last together.

Then, as the twin suns of Tatooine set behind your little domed house in the sand, you lead him to your bed.

----------------------------------------------------

You are curled up on your side against Obi-Wan's solid, warm chest. For the first time in years you feel safe, entwined in his strong arms, listening to the steady, sonorous rhythm of his heartbeat.

"I have always loved you," he whispers tenderly in your ear, tucking away a stray lock of hair back from your cheek.

"And I you," you say and you mean it.

Still, you can't help but smile sadly as you think of the last time you saw him that fateful night of the storm of Vitis before everything fell apart.

"But of course, you already knew that," you add.

"I am sorry, truly."

"Obi-Wan..." you start to interrupt, worried that your words sounded resentful.

"For all the wasted years," he continues.

He needs to say this, you realise. So you let him.

"If I'd known how the Republic would fall, how the Jedi Order would fail, how the Empire... Well, I never would have denied us this."

He brings his lips to your shoulder and traces a trail of kisses down your arm. His beard tickles.

"No one could have known, Obi-Wan. You did what you thought was right at the time. We all did. And now here we are together again. We made it back to each other. Two old relics of a past age."

"Oh come now, we're not that old," he quips, and you are happy to hear that his tone has lightened again.

You grin mischievously and wriggle out of his arms to push him down onto his back and roll on top of him.

"Prove it," you whisper, as you come to rest on his abdomen and lean down to kiss him on the nose.

His eyes widen in surprise and then in boyish delight as he grasps you firmly by your hips. "Again?!" he laughs and he throws his head back in mirth at his own joke, his eyes squeezing shut so that they crinkle beautifully at the corners.

It is a joyful, youthful, transcendental sound and suddenly, you are back under the Whispering Tree in the green meadows of Vitis with a young Jedi, an unwritten future together stretching out endlessly in front of you.

#obi wan x reader #obi wan x female reader #star wars fanfiction #obi wan kenobi x reader #obi wan kenobi x female reader #star wars fanfic #obi wan kenobi fanfiction

[hyp-fixator]

Misc. Headcannons as a little treat and also cause I'm bored. (Most are region based!)

Hyperlaser tends to like writing as a coping mechanism. He keeps everything in a single storyline in a book that will forever stay a work in progress. ^ All it is is him putting his life into a different perspective. Most of the time I feel like the book would be pretty boring, just a day after day after day kind of thing. Noticing the little patterns around him, noting down what he eats, how he rested, etc.

All demon horns, if expressing strong emotions, can emit sparks and/or electric currents in the direction of growth. These sparks are harmless and are more of a pulse of light if anything. ^ if strong emotions are felt and the demon has injured/broken horns, the sparks/electricity can escape through the injury, and depending on the severity can cause a sparkshower. ^ these sparks also crackle like static electricity, while the glowing pulse going up the horn(s) is a faint hum. (This is partially inspired by horns glowing when the Phighters phinishers are ready, though when that happens it's kinda like when you go into a rage in dnd. A bunch of built up power erupts and the horns pulse so fast they look like they're glowing)

And now the faction headcannons!

BlackRock is a tourist attraction most of the time! With the mountains and valleys, it tends to feel a lot like Banff National Park in Canada. ^ tons of expensive as hell food, shops, ect all meant to trap and drown people.

Blackrocks economy is the worst out of all the factions. Many people have to eat only a few times a week, and when they do, it almost always tastes like gasoline and/or dirt. Of course, with the tourist traps, no one knows unless they move there how bad the cuisine is. They probably steal recipies from neighboring factions.

All of Blackrocks labs are built into the largest mountains, the only way in and out being the massive steel doors.

BlackRock was of course named after the mountains in the region, which are made out of a slick black rock. The most common tourist souvenir is a piece of this rock from the mountains.

there's of course the more mountainous places in BlackRock, but most of the population resides in the center of the faction which is protected by the mountains surrounding the massive city like a bowl. ^ this city resembles downtown japan and New York times square, but x100 more busy and advanced in their technology.

this city tends to only be visited by the tourists who are dead set on going, as it's not very tourist friendly with its inhabitants and the stores are more than expensive. Their cornerstores arent even that good either.

BlackRock doesnt celebrate anything, and is more secluded when it comes to their culture.

At playgrounds center is just an urban town, always resembling one of those classic movies based in the 1970's/80's. ^ the outskirts of Playground is a massive and dense forest system, where plenty of secrets are held. Most of them are hideouts though.

Playground is a heavily community based faction, and it doesnt have many big cities. The capital is one of the only cities, and even then many still prefer the towns and neighborhoods scattered across the faction.

There's also a few large lakes around the faction, so beach culture is a fairly big staple.

Playground doesn't usually celebrate a lot of things as a whole faction, and more rather everyone has massive parties and celebrates with their own family and friends. Party-hopping happens quite a bit because of this

The thieves den is the second most visited faction, and the calmest of them all. A permenant fog covers the ground, giving it an almost eerie feel, though it fluctuates with the weather.

Community is also a fairly big staple, though it's more in business then personal connections. ^ there is plenty of farmland and tons of street markets open almost all the time.

The Thieves den, without much competition, easily has the best cuisine out of all the factions with all the freshly grown and harvested ingredients, along with talented chefs.

The capital of thieves would most likely look a lot like those old chinese towns, but I wouldnt be suprised if theres a bunch of Korean inspiration in there as well.

Festivities are not very common, but when they do happen, Theives den goes all out with some of the most light and decoration crazy celebrations. Most times the capital holds it, and almost always it ends up being the whole city decked out to celebrate.

The theives den also has plenty of bars and pubs/hotels scattered around the faction, and they all reside fairly close to each other.

The lost temple is the driest faction of the four, residing in small towns around a massive desert, usually based around water pools and oasis.

Most of the buildings are made of sandstone and chiseled with delicate details.

Of course the church of the true eye resides somewhere in the capital, most likely hiding behind a different name.

Lost temple is probably the most menacing faction specifically for how uneasy the air around it is. Naturally theres some very nice and safe places and experiences to go to, but if you take a wrong turn it's very easy to end up in the wrong side of town.

markets are also fairly common, every other street has at least a few stalls up daily.

the more populated areas are definitely a little more "yee haw cowboy" esque, having taller buildings and such.

#phighting #phighting! #phighting roblox #phighting headcanons #phighting headcannons #hyperlazer phighting #phighting hyperlaser #hyperlaser #hyperlaser phighting #lost temple #Theives den #blackrock #playground

[justanamesstuff]

The intimacy of being understood

Epilogue

Matty Healy x f!reader

A/N: Okay, wasn't planning on posting today or any day soon...here we are though haha. This is the end guys :(( and its also a good bye for a while...I'll still be here to chill and chat but not writing, I'm already missing it a lot. Thanks again and again and FOREVER for all the support you all always give me, means the absolute world to me <333 Happy reading!

Warnings: just FLUFF AND LOVE (i think we all need a bit of that haha), typos.

Word count: 1.4 K

Blog Masterlist Series Masterlist

Epilogue 

The summer breeze messed with Y/n’s locks, even though that didn’t disturb her slumber. Matty ran a hand softly through the strands of hair falling on his lap. His sight admired the lake in front of them and the sun reaching every corner of the park except the place they chose for a break during that summer day. 

Matty stared at the broken light –getting through the leaves of the tree above them– playing on his girlfriend’s face. His factions softened when his eyes traced every part of her beautiful face. She had fallen asleep shortly after they arrived, and he started reading out loud for her. When she proposed the idea, Matty protested saying how cheesy it was, although she only had to flutter her eyelashes and he started clearing his throat before pronouncing the first word of the book Y/n selected. 

The singer's calloused hands touched slightly her forehead, drawing lines along the skin, then her nose, to finish caressing the apple of her cheeks. ‘I’m a lucky bastard’, Matty thought.

After a few minutes, Y/n protested, still partially asleep, “Mmm.” she mumbled, but Matty didn’t stop.

Y/n blinked her eyes open, looking up at her boyfriend’s face, meeting his eyes. She groaned due to tiredness overtaking her senses. The quick action made Matty laugh.

“Hey, sleepy.” he whispered, feeling another breeze of air surrounding them.

Matty’s girlfriend let herself enjoy his touch, still on her face. “I’m sorry.” Y/n apologized. “Your voice and the weather are just too good.”

“Happy to help, my love.” he smiled down at her, even when her eyes were still closed. 

Y/n felt her stomach move a little, and her hand instantly went to rest over her growing belly. She loved Matty with all her heart. Those simple moments of peace together were everything Y/n wanted to cherish for the rest of their lives. The intimacy they built during the past year and a half was their biggest treasure until she arrived.

When she moved looking for a better position since her back started hurting, Matty helped her. Y/n ended up sitting on his lap, with her back meeting his front. Matty’s hands met on Y/n front, caressing the skin under her blouse. 

“How much did I sleep?” Y/n ask, resting her head on his shoulder. 

Matty answered right away, “Probably half an hour.” 

“How long until you noticed?”

“Five minutes.” he chuckled. 

“Matty!”

“Don’t look at me. You looked too peaceful to wake you up, baby. Besides, you haven’t slept that well in days.”

He was the sweetest man walking the earth. Y/n took his free hand, lifting it until her lips left multiple kisses on the back of it. 

“She’s being a little troublemaker already.” Matty teased.

“Mhm.”

“You’re never this tired when i fuc-”

“Matty!” Y/n protested, turning as best as she could, looking at his face. “Do I have to remind you how did I get…?

“Yes, please. I want a step by step manual of everything we did-”

Y/n frowned, saying, “Shut up.”

“I love you.” Matty replied, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear, making her heart melt. 

The singer’s girlfriend let herself lean forward, encountering him in a sweet kiss. 

After a few minutes and multiple kisses, Y/n pushed back, “I need to drop by the shop.” Matty frowned listening to her say that. “New delivery.” she clarified.

“You can do it tomorrow. I’ll help you.”

“I’ve already told Kate to help me.”

“Cheater.”

“You can help too.” she reassured him.

“I can see how this is going to be. Me doing all the hard work and you two ogling over me.”

“Excuse me?” 

“I have a nice butt.” Matty shrugged his shoulders.

“...now.” Y/n added.

The singer groaned loudly, “I forbid Kate to show you those pictures.”

“Love, she doesn’t hear us, and besides I have a phone.” 

“Oh, do you have a Pinterest board for me?” he giggled his eyebrows. ‘He can be so annoying sometimes’, she thought. 

“I don’t like you.” Y/n breathed out.

Surprising Matty and herself, Y/n stood up rather quickly with little problems due to her current state. She whipped her hands on the back of her jeans, looking down at Matty. He reached up, touching her belly again. The man was obsessed with it.

“How’s it called?” Matty continued messing with her. 

“Asshole.” Y/n whispered, making him laugh.

The singer moved his other hand into the air, making a weird voice, “Matty, my perfect boyfriend.”

“Bye!” the woman simply said, starting to walk away.

“Baby!”

*****

Matty was at the top of the stairs, a few books resting on his arm between his chest and his bicep. Meanwhile, Y/n stood at the bottom of the stairs, being unable to do the job that was needed. Her hands rested on the small part of her back, she was very sore. The sight above her was a nice reassurance, though.

“You lucky girl.” 

Kate’s voice came from behind her head. Her best friend took place beside her, her eyes glutted to Matty’s body, exactly how Y/n had been doing moments before.

“Shush.” she said after a quick glance. 

Matty stretched far from the stairs, putting the last book on the shelf. “And…done!” 

The singer looked down, expecting to see only Y/n there. He got a little stunned when two pairs of eyes were staring at him and not exactly his work. But his mood quickly changed to a smugly one. 

“Liking the view, guys?” he asked.

“Yep.” Kate admitted with zero shame on her tone. 

Matty snorted, “Didn’t you have a girlfriend?”

“Didn’t you have one?”

“Mhm, she lets her crazy friend look at my ass.”

“I own it.” Y/n stated.

“You do.”

Kate looked between them, “You two are gross.” 

“And yet you stare at my ass.” Matty said coming down.

“I can appreciate art when I see it.”

It was Y/n’s time to protest, “Kate!”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcomed.” Matty thanked Y/n’s friend, standing closer to his girlfriend, reaching for her belly once more. 

“Am I bothering you guys? Should I leave?” Y/n joked.

Kate rolled her eyes. “Jealousy doesn’t look good on you, Y/n.” 

“Funny ha-ha.”

“I should leave, though.” 

Kate explained to them, grabbing her back, that it was at the other side of the shop, although she returned. Y/n watched her kneeled down, whispering silly things to her belly, ending with a sweet kiss. 

“Vick is waiting for me.” Kate continued the conversation as if nothing happened in between.

Matty whistled, gaining a stern look from her. 

“He’s lucky to have nice buttocks.” Kate said directly to her friend. “Bye.”

After the door closed, Matty went directly to the big couch, plopping down with a big huff. He opened his arms wide, searching for Y/n’s eyes. She was already staring at him. 

“Baby…” he started. She knew that tone. 

“No, I still have work.” Y/n started turning around, but not two steps before he pushed her towards the couch. 

Mayhem who was on the other couch, tired by the intense heat, opened and closed his eyes, annoyed with his owners. Y/n extended her hand, touching his fur, avoiding Matty’s eyes above her. 

“You deserve a break.” she could feel him lingering on top of her. 

“Maybe but-”

Matty shut her up with a series of sweet kisses that ended –of course– on her belly. He kneeled down in front of her and their doggy.

“To think this is where it all started…” he spoke, a bit lost inside his own head. Y/n detached her eyes and hand from Mayhem’s form, leaving the sweet dog to rest. 

“The bookshop?” their hands met shortly after asking him. 

“Yes.”

“Thanks to your crazy fans, too.”

Matty chuckled, “They love you.”

“I bet they want my place.”

“The bookshop?”

“To be underneath you.” Y/n teased. 

“Ah!” Matty exclaimed, going to sit beside her. “You like that, don’t ya?”

“Why are you talking so much?” 

“What should I do?”

“Kiss me, Matty.”

“Since you asked nicely…” Matty smiled at Y/n, grabbing her face and pulling his face closer.

Meanwhile the future parents shared a sweet moment after an evening of hard work, all the surrounding universes inside the bookshop continued witnessing –like they did since the first day– their love that continued growing strong. 

-------------------------------------------------------------------

Taglist: @indierockgirrl @x-a-black-winged-dove-x @iregretbeingherewheniwas10 @hswannaknow @thefrontofmymind

#matty healy x reader #matty healy fanfiction #matty healy fic #matty the 1975 #matty healy x y/n #matty x reader #matty x y/n #matty healy the 1975

[lets-try-some-writing]

The Grim Dark Archives: Statement #005 Named Cybertronians

[Statement taken from [Redacted] on [Redacted: Sensitive data] regarding known Cybertronians. They were asked to elaborate on the Cybertronians that have been recorded as being present on Earth after the alien known as Cliffjumper was killed in action. We know very little about the event, but supposedly Cliffjumper was deployed to search for Decepticon activity.

According to the report given to us by Optimus Prime, Cliffjumper found where Decepticon agents were mining energon and promptly initiated combat. This resulted in his capture by the Decepticons, and although a corpse has yet to be recovered, the Autobots reported that his vitals flatlined.

High command saw fit to use [Redacted]'s knowledge to try and gain an understanding of just how many aliens we could possibly be dealing with in the near future. Thankfully [Redacted] was more than willing to speak on the matter and has already expressed an interest on elaborating more on certain individuals.

Statement begins.]

══════════════════

Oh this is the kind of question I will gladly answer. Collecting data on people, organizations, a various beliefs is my specialty. Now, since you are already familiar with the Autobots, I shall begin with them.

Let's start with the two wheeler. Her designation is Arcee, as you know. She is of a small sub-class of Cybertronians known as 'femmes' and well known for her abilities. Let me warn you now, femmes are some of the most terrifying Cybertronians out there, and not for the reason you may think. They may be small and seem feminine to you organics, but our femmes are built with strange and unique abilities alongside their differing processing methods. I will go more in depth regarding Cybertronian femmes a bit later. For now, all you need to know is that they latch onto the mentally or physically weak amongst our kind. And at that point, they claim the mech in question and slowly prepare to use their ability and... improve them.

Don't question it right now. There will be time for explanations later. For now, we are doing an overview aren't we? Anyway, her records do not go back to before the war, but personal investigation leads me to believe that she likely worked for the High Council in some capacity. She has ties to the Primacy but largely sticks with the Prime because he likes having a femme around to throw at enemies. Femmes are vicious creatures. Honestly considering how much Arcee liked him, Cliffjumper was a dead mech walking anyway. He's lucky to have been killed by the enemy rather than face the fate of those chosen by femmes. I've been the subject of a femme's interest once. I barely made it out alive. Thank Primus the Archives took me before she did.

Cliffjumper is rather irrelevant now, but I will go over him anyway in case he somehow manages to walk off whatever the Decepticons did to him. He actually doesn't have a ton on his record. He was a regular recruit, one recorded signing on sometime around the height of the war when factions had to be picked. There was nothing out of the ordinary about him, and in fact, he fell below average strength levels for most soldiers. That is probably what got Arcee interested in him. Poor mech came from one of the outer cities and probably didn't know what in the pits a femme even was. Its unfortunate that he's dead, but I honestly do think it was likely in his best interest. He would have dealt with so much suffering otherwise.

May he rest at peace as one with the Allspark.

Next up is Bulkhead. You know? The one who beat me into scrap? Don't play stupid. I am no fool. I am well aware you saw that footage. We will be discussing that later. Now about him, he is a Wrecker. His augmentations are specifically made by Wreckers for Wreckers and he will die for the organization. All those who join the Wreckers are bound to them forever. There simply is no escape once the augmentations are finished. Most don't want to leave, and Bulkhead falls into that category. I can go into more depth about the Wreckers and their... beliefs, a bit later. At the moment, let it be known that he does not give a flying frag about you squishies. He follows the creed of his kind and thankfully for all of you, that creed does not permit unnecessary damage to native lifeforms of foreign worlds. Last I checked, he serves the Prime because that is part of his duty and Prime gave him the means to deal with a grudge of his. He has a personal investment here on Earth because he heard that there was a rouge Wrecker here somewhere.

No I will not elaborate right now. You lot need to be paying close attention to what comes next, so I will not linger on topics at the moment.

Ratchet is the resident medic. I believe I have expressed my fears before, but seriously, medics are DANGEROUS. I cannot emphasize that enough. The insane fraggers hyperfocus on one field and one faction and they stick to it like glue. They cling to their alliances and progeny like a parasite and will fight and even maim one another over patients. Ratchet is one of the best and worst medics I have ever encountered. His genius is legendary and he is one of the few who have ever been able to absorb all medical knowledge without focusing too hard on any particular field or falling to medical madness. Yes that is a real issue amongst my kind.

He also is not quite as insane as the others because of his upbringing out in the middle of nowhere during the age before the Quintessons came. But with that said, his motives are dubious at best. He is loyal to the Prime alone and would gladly frag over anyone who is not a medic or an Autobot. He also is not fond of you fleshies, but he does his job and should probably not be too bad so long as you don't catch his interest. Honestly getting the interest of any of my kind is a bad idea, so I suggest just not doing that. Medics in particular have one pit of a subculture that makes them a pain in the aft to understand, even for the average Cybertronian.

Now, moving on from the mad medic, Bumblebee is the team scout, and for good reason. He is totally unaugmented. He has no attachments whatsoever. No commlink, no programming, no battle codes, no inbuilt weapons, no specializations, nothing at all. He is practically a civilian and has to work himself half to death just to keep up with the rest of our kind who get augments nearly the moment they are old enough to handle them. If you are looking for the safest Autobot, you will find it in him. He is still one of my kind, but possess a great ability to empathize, or at least offer aid without expecting something in return. He never got any alteration programming, which may explain his more reasonable disposition. But of course, there is a reason for that.

I will not go into detail right now, but Bumblebee is kept from receiving augments on purpose. It is easier for mecha without augments to receive the Matrix of leadership and live reasonable lives under its control. Optimus is by no means loving, but he cares for what he sees as his. Bumblebee is being trained to be physically stronger than the others and mentally hardened so that he can bear the burden should Optimus fall. Either that, or he is being prepared to carry the weight of our people's history if another is found more suitable. The Prime is currently a walking databank for all of Cybertronian knowledge. One way or another, Bumblebee will carry the weight of one station, be it that of the Archive or the Matrix. He cannot escape, but it does not seem like he wishes to. He is loyal to his Sire and to the cause after all.

As for Optimus Prime himself? He is a whole series of statements on his own. To give you the thousand mile high overview, he was originally a dock worker. He was normal, much like Bumblebee. He had the attention of a femme, but he seemed to have a reasonable lifespan on him regardless of that fact. Then the Archive took him, and there he became one of theirs. He was one of the many sets of optics and frames which belonged to the Archive. And yet, he took interest in Megatronus, the leader of the Decepticons. Orion Pax, as was his name at the time, had his reasons for being involved. However through a series of accidents, he found himself being prepped for war. He was offered as a sacrifice, and the last resort relic that is the Matrix of Leadership was given to him. Since then he has led the war and done everything in his power to take what he sees as his.

He is a master at manipulation and adaptation. He can and will find information on every subject and devour it like a starving mech. If he finds you interesting, he will tear you apart to gain every last fact and iota of information. There is no escape from him, and until he gets what he wants, he will not allow anyone to stand in his way. His goals are complex, and even I do not fully understand. But he fights all the same and will kill you regardless. Be wary of him. He is by far the most dangerous simply because he has lived so long.

Primes do not last longer than a few millennia. And yet Optimus has lived for over four million years. That should be a sign that he's clever and has ways to bypass what we have always assumed was a death sentence.

For the Decepticons, there have only been three confirmed units and one unconfirmed thus far. I will explain any others as they become relevant. To begin, there is Starscream, the Lord of Vos. He is a seeker, a subsection of flight class Cybertronians that do not fall in line with normal standards. Seekers were complete isolationists before the war, even going so far as to have their own ever moving city, language, and culture. They do not use modern technology, they do not worship Primus, and their rituals are savage even by Cybertronian standards. I will go into more depth on them later, but for the time being, just know that Starscream being the Lord of Vos essentially puts him in the position of Shaman for his kind. He is a follower of nature and seeks to keep things in balance while remaining faithful to his culture. Due to how little is known about Vosian culture and Seekers as a whole, he is unpredictable. His motives are almost entirely impossible to figure out and he will fight in the way of the ancients. By all accounts the Seekers should have been wiped out eons ago, but their methods are... surprisingly effective.

Cunning and strange, Starscream's methods are unorthodox and his loyalty is all but void. He serves whatever it is he worships, his people, and himself. That is all. He has no mortals or ethics even amongst our rather loose ones. The only benefit you humans will find in his nature is that he is not fond of killing without reason and likely will leave you alone if you don't bother him. But of course he is a spontaneous mech and could just as easily turn up in the dead of night and slaughter you all will no explanation. Leave him be, that is my suggestion.

Soundwave is Megatron's second in command, at least behind the scenes. He joined up with the Decepticons long before they were official and knows more than I care to bother explaining. Not a spark actually knows what he is, but him and others like him, such. as the Autobot Blaster, have an ability that gives them an edge. He is able to house symbiotes, beings that I have no real clue where they come from. Soundwave and those like him are recorded appearing out of the blue randomly only to then latch onto mecha of interest in a manner like femmes. Those mecha proceed to live out their lives normally, but usually just before death, Soundwave and his kind will drag them off never to be seen again. Within a few vorns, a new symbiote can be noted running around. I hypothesize that whatever is done to the dying plays a role in the creation of symbiotes, but I do not have enough information. Soundwave serves Megatron, that is what matters.

He can get into just about anything and very little is known about him as a whole. No known motives, no known origin, no known anything really. He is a stranger who appeared in the pits alongside Megatron and simply never went away. Keep clear of him if you can. He is a mech that even the average Cybertronian tries to steer away from.

Vehicons are clone soldiers that might as well be civilians with toy blasters attached to them. They are normal mecha who are held together by some grand communication array that I am not familiar with. They are mass produced, hold very little value, and oftentimes do not have much personality aside from the one that they all share. They work without question and die in droves before being promptly replaced. Honestly your biggest concern is possibly being stepped on. The Vehicons are untrained newsparks at worst and competent but low level ground units at best. Until they develop more as individuals, they are not too great a threat save for when they are sent out in waves.

Lastly there is Megatron, currently MIA Lord of the Decepticons. He came from the mines of Kaon and somehow managed to work past the slave coding installed in him long enough to simply wander out of the pits. He was a scumbag in the redlight district for a while before spontaneously ending up in the pits as a Gladiator. There he gained a following and did his best to fight for his cause before ultimately turning to war to make things more faster. This backfired horribly if you can't tell. Now he is a mech who seems lost more often than not. He has been noted having patchy memory, more so after every interaction with Optimus Prime. He is only as cruel as was normal in the redlight district and his most concerning trait is his astounding lack of care for anything orderly or organic. He hates programing or augmentation and only tolerates it in his soldiers to win. Augments enrage him to such an extent that he has been noted acting out of normal parameters in response to heavily altered individuals. He wants chaos, that is what you need to know.

If he thinks it would further his ends, he would gladly wipe this planet off the map. However he does nothing without reason, and so unless you garner his attention, you should be fine. Stay away from him, don't mention anything related to the Archive or the Matrix, and all should be well... for the most part.

I can tell you more later, but for now, you best keep your organic optics on the happenings going on. If Cliffjumper is dead, it means there is a very real chance things are going to spiral and do so fast.

══════════════════

[Statement end.

The timestamps have been removed from these reports in response to [Redacted]'s information on the Cybertronian known as Soundwave. What information we have is critical for our survival, and we simply cannot risk it being destroyed even if the alien able to do so with ease likely won't ever bother to damage our files.

We expect [Redacted] to be giving us much more data soon, especially since they have begun to warm up to me and my fellow agents since their repairs were completed. They have also requested to be referred to by masculine pronouns, perhaps as a sign of trust? Whatever the case, we are making progress. Hopefully we will have a reasonable way to fight back against the aliens soon, at least if their guns settle on us.

Agent Witwicky signing off.

Recording ends.]

#transformers #maccadam #transformers prime #team prime #megatron #optimus prime #ratchet #bumblebee #arcee #bulkhead #soundwave #starscream #the grim dark archives #[redacted] #agent witwicky #statement recording #oh boy I cannot wait to get into the lore I have cooking up #but for now #here are hints :)

[ratmobstudio]

Los Aquillios, CA. 1968. It’s the hottest summer on record since ‘32, and the heat is not the only thing starting to get under everyone’s skin.

You’ve spent your entire life as an associate to the Verano crime family— one of the three biggest mob factions this side of the West Coast. This life has brought you respect, a steady income, even a family who treats you as one of their own.

But you’ve grown tired of constantly looking over your shoulder, of the bloodshed that paints the streets far too often for your comfort. You know as well as anyone that there are only two ways to leave the life: disappearing into the harsh clutch of witness protection or in a bodybag.

Fortunately, you’ve discovered a third way: making enough money on your own to vanish into thin air. 

Yet when your plans collide with two different men, the trajectories of your fates will be changed forever.

Play as a down-on-his luck mobster with several secrets that could result in a one-way trip to the bottom of the river.

Make allies and enemies among the people you’ve known your whole life. Burn bridges or stick together, sink or swim.

Shape the MC’s personality and worldview.

Forge relationships between a cast of shady characters, each with their own flaws, and earn your reputation among the city’s crime factions.

Try to claw your way out of the mess you’ve dug for yourself, kid.

Walter “Angel Eyes” LaTorre [M] | Verano family associate

Your childhood best friend, Walter is now nothing but a thorn at your side— and everyone else’s. A degenerate gambler relying on his boyish charm and enthusiasm to get by,  there’s nothing Walter likes better than to spend money that isn’t his. But time is ticking, debts are unpaid, and you’ve always been one to help a friend in need. Haven’t you?

Carmine Pitera [M] | Verano family made man

Balanced on the edge of the family’s inner circle and egged on by the ever-burning ambition in his gut, Carmine is a cunning and dangerous mobster. He’s been around the block since long before you ever came on scene. With nine lives almost up, Carmine has started looking at you differently, and you’re not quite sure if you should run.

Ophelia Gallo [F] | Civilian

A femme fatale found at every bar the Three Families' own, Ophelia delights in the air of danger and allure that has permeated every inch of her life. The daughter of the don of the Perricone family, what she isn’t given, she’ll take— even if it’s detrimental to her. She’s set her sights on delving deeper into the dangerous world her father occupies, and she wants you as a guide. 

[Full Character List]

Demo TBA + Ch1 in development

#interactive fiction #if wip #interactive fiction intro #wip intro #if games #twine game #dev log #interactive novel #wip; otl

[archetypal-archivist]

Call me a sucker for found family and angst, but one of these days, I want to see Badboyhalo actually need help. He's so prepared for every eventuality, he has so many resources, the best armor and weapons one can get, an ender pearl stasis for Dapper, and so much more besides.

People come to him for babysitting (like Philza) or weird foods (like Foolish) and he always says yes, and if he doesn't, it's usually because he wants to cut a deal first.

He is the server gossip and is usually the last one to leave the server for the night so he knows All The Things and will recount them for people on request. If you need to know where your kidnapped son was taken to, you can ask him. If you need the final solution to the ARG, he's the only other person who was told beyond the one who originally solved it.

And... He barely trusts anyone. Forever has the warp to his secret base, yeah, but Bad's waypoints look like a band of stars across the horizon when he chooses to turn them all on. And only he and Dapper know where each of those stars leads. He and Dapper will travel ten thousand blocks out in search of adventure and their only safety net is Bad's own paranoia and planning.

It's not like Badboyhalo doesn't have options- he does! So many people care about him and would be happy to help if it came to it. Forever and Aypierre's experience farms that are limited to only them and their factions, the French's nickname for him whenever he's mentioned in chat, the favors he's owed for his kindness and generosity. If he really, honestly needed help I would bet that so many on the server would drop everything to give it to him.

Etoiles and Forever, two of the biggest server sweats, have both explicitly stated that they owe him.

I want to see what would make Badboyhalo cash in. I want to see what people would do in the name of helping him.

But mostly... I want to see Bad needing something and getting it. I want to see him in peril and returned to safety, then welcomed back with open arms. I want him to learn to trust the others and for the others to learn to be trustworthy because they don't want their friend to hurt. I'd like that. :)

#qsmp #mc

[loola-a]

@fe-oc-week day 1 - introductions !

this is my best friend forever, florence von giselle !

Gender: Female

Race: Human

Birthday: 13th December

Fódlan birthday: 13th of the Ethereal Moon; Imperial Year 1161

Age: 18-19

Relatives: Mylan Von Giselle (Father)

Celeste Von Giselle (Mother)

Nationality: Adrestian Empire (Exiled)

Hometown: Dukedom of Giselle, which has since been merged with Hrym territory.

Residence: Garreg Mach Monastery

Factions: Ivory Swans

Occupations: Heir of House Giselle

Personal Ability: Ghostly Seance - Once per game + if unit is at max HP, able to revive any 1 fallen ally. [This only works if the revived unit fell during that specific battle, and the unit will also go back to being dead once the battle ends!]

Early Life:

Florence is the only child and heir to House Giselle. She’s childhood friends with Lindhardt, Bernadetta and Lysithea.

In 1167 during the Insurrection of the Seven, House Giselle along with House Hrym tried to secede from the Empire and join the Leicester Alliance. Working with the neighbouring House Ordelia, Hrym and Giselle raised an insurrection, but the Empire swiftly suppressed it. In retaliation for the uprising, Hrym’s main genetic line was eradicated. Four years later, House Giselle was found to have also colluded with Ordeila and Hyrm and were exiled from the Adrestrian Empire. Her family secretly relocated to Ordelia territory.

House Giselle is not noted as one of the seven involved in the Insurrection of the Seven as, after their exiling, all records of the House were destroyed.

Two years later, she developed an illness that took the life of her mother and left Florence bedridden for several years. While she eventually regained mobility, her legs remain very weak.

Personality:

Hating battles and loving peace and quiet, Florence does her best to avoid the harsh realities of the world, often idling about in escapist activities such as reading, composing or looking for ghosts. Her interest in seances and the occult stemming from the loss of her mother at a young age, and her desire to talk to her once more.

Despite being the heir to House Giselle, Florence has little love for her House, as it has lost all political and social standing due to their role in the Insurrection of the Seven. She often expresses guilt and remorse for her fathers actions, believing that the exiling of her House was the catalyst for all of her grievances in life. Due to her house being banished from the Empire and forced into hiding, not only was she separated from her home and her friends, but they were also unable to treat the sickness that took her mother’s life and left her bedridden for many years. In fact, in a majority of her endings, she abandons her claim to House Giselle altogether. Good for her!!

Lost Items:

A Planchette: A pointer made for a board used to contact ghosts. It probably belongs to someone who enjoys the occult.

Late Return Notice: A request letter from the library asking for a late book to be returned. It probably,y belongs to someone who frequents the library.

A Piece of Unfinished Music: An unfinished sheet of music. It probably belongs to someone who enjoys composing.

Quotes:

Choir Practice: “Hmm… I wonder if I could incorporate this melody into- Oh. My apologies, Professor.”

Cooking: “I’m quite useless at cooking, my mother always used to say I could burn an empty pan,”

Counsellor:

“Whenever I try to talk to someone about ghosts, they get scared and run away. I don’t mean to scare anyone, I just want to talk about my interests.”

“There’s a restricted section of the library that has all the interesting books locked away. How would I gain access to them without being expelled?”

“It’s my fathers fault that our House fell into ruin. I have no desire to inherit a House so wrought with disappointment and betrayal.” (war phase)

Dining Hall:

Favourite dish: “I haven’t eaten this since I was a child, how lovely.”

Neutral dish: “I usually just bring my food back to the library with me…”

Disliked dish: “I think I left something… somewhere. I should go.”

With Edelgard:

(Before C Support)

Edelgard: How are you liking your food, Florence?

Florence: It’s… fine. I’m sorry, I think I hear someone calling for me.

(After C Support)

Edelgard: Florence, I hear that you like to compose music! You must show me your work some time

Florence: I suppose I could…

With Jeritza:

Jeritza: …

Florence: …

Recruitment:

Requirements not met: “Sorry Professor, I have some books that I have to return to the library urgently. If I’m late again they might ban me.”

Requirements met: “Professor, I have a request…”

Accept: “Wonderful. I have heard your classroom is haunted. Is that true?”

Decline: “Oh. alright then…”

Gift:

Favourite: “For me? Are you sure?”

Neutral: “This is nice”

Disliked: “Oh… alright.”

Lost Item:

Not theirs: “That’s not mine. I’m afraid you’ll have to keep looking.”

Theirs: “Oh, you found it! I wondered where it had gotten to.”

Tea Party:

General: “Next time you should come to one of my seances. You can still bring the tea if you like.”

Favourite Tea: “Ah, this smell reminds me of being a child,”

Favourite Teas: Angelica Tea, Crescent-Moon Tea, Lavender Blend, Mint Leaves

Introducing own topic:

“I once spoke with a ghost who sounded a lot like you, Professor.”

“While I enjoy composing, I’m not a fan of singing or dancing myself. I’ll leave all that to the professionals.”

“You don’t get scared when I talk about ghosts, that’s what makes you different from the others around here.”

“Staying in the library past curfew wouldn’t get me in trouble, would it?”

“The things you might have heard about my House, I would prefer if you forgot all of it. People like to exaggerate…”

“Have you ever seen a ghost, Professor?”

Observe:

*humming* “Hm? Oh, it’s just… a song I’m working on.”

“Please don’t stare at me,”

End: “I had fun, thank you very much. I hope you invite me again soon.”

this ended up ridiculously long so if u made it this far tysm i love you

#fe3h #loola art #digital illustration #fe3h fanart #fire emblem #fire emblem three houses #fe3houses #fe #fe16 #fe3h oc #fe oc week #ivory swans