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sixosix · 9 months

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IT WAS ALL BY DESIGN | KAVEH

tags second chance, angst and fluff, time-skips, DARK HUMOR, lovers to exes to lovers again, profanity

written for art @aanobrain, who i made a bloodpact with saying that if i were to write this they’d write me xiao, so here we are. hope u like it art

a/n wc 4K kaveh lore spoilers but i didn’t follow the canon timeline. kaveh meets al-haitham BEFORE the palace of alcazarzaray. also this has two parts

next part

kaveh first saw you when he was presenting his nth draft proposal to his fellow group members.

it’s stressful, it’s a mess, kaveh is lost, and so, so tired. this group is certainly the worst one he’s had yet, but he’s too far deep to back out now.

tamara sighs deeply, like a tired mother, and kaveh’s temper flares, “i understand your need to express your love for aesthetics, but don’t you think that it’s unwise to sacrifice practicality?”

kaveh’s jaw ticks. “sacrifice? i’ve already explained that i’ve thought of every detail to consider. give me something to work on, actual criticism, without just slandering my ideals.”

tamara enjoys insulting his beliefs because she is nothing like kaveh. or maybe it’s because he is nothing like her.

it always is like this. snobs treat his proposals—bursting at the seams with unique ideas yet never neglecting quality—like a joke, and they never get past getting called drafts. he never gets past calling any of his first proposals a success.

“the outside world wouldn’t be as lenient as we had been to your designs, you know,” another of them says. one of his mentors. “tamara is right. we don’t have to get too detailed. here, listen, what if you just change up the strange curve of this wall? and this pillar you…”

outside world, kaveh thinks bitterly. he had already dealt enough with the outside world, but keeping him cornered against a wall he had been building against them was far worse than that.

yet he can’t say this. he’s said enough already. if tamara’s face were to get any redder, he’d lose the opportunity for the materials collectively funded by these people.

kaveh sighs, defeated. “i know. i’m sorry i snapped. i’ll take in your suggestions. what did you say must be removed first?”

“hold on,” one of his group mates speaks up. anis leans her chair over to another table, tapping the shoulder of someone kaveh is sure he’s never damn seen before. “hey, what do you think?”

you squint at kaveh’s work, unfazed by anis interrupting your studies. kaveh doesn’t want to, but he can’t look away. “i don’t understand some of it, but it’s nice. this building would look beautiful in the jungle.”

anis returns the front of her char’s legs on the floor. “ahh, you think?” she muses, handing the paper over to you. “well, an outside perspective is just as important.”

with a pen in your grip, you point at somewhere kaveh can’t quite see, blocked off by the back of the paper. it’s blocked off your face, too. “could use a bit more ornamental flora. too little over here if you’re going to already add it. life doesn’t just come from bright colors, but other forms of life as well.”

“spoken like a true amurta darshan.”

you huff proudly, lowering the paper and revealing your smile. kaveh stares, and stares.

knowing how to appreciate beauty as he does is a trait he has always admired. he secretly takes your suggestions to heart, planning to pull another all-nighter for a few sketches. this is the beauty of the akademiya; why he never gave up as soon as he was first brought down—he learns so much every day.

his heart races just at the thought of it. it’s been days since he felt this.

kaveh wonders if he’ll see you again and doesn’t get much time to think about it again when he’s pulled back to reality, back to yet another proposal that’s been erased so many times, it looks more like a smudge of ink than something kaveh would proudly call his.

kaveh sees you again in the house of daena hunched over a book with your face pinched, sitting next to someone, and he thinks that might’ve been when he fell in love.

but no, that can’t be right. that’s not how love works. it takes time, courage, long nights, restless mornings—this is just him a few feet away from someone whose words he admired.

this must be more like passing by a picture that caught his interest. this must be more fleeting, more like what he deserves, like how the yolk is shaped perfectly on his breakfast for the first time in weeks, how the weather is perfect for smooth construction without disaster, or how his mother did not at least cry too much in a day.

he had only been trying to pass by and continue annotating the book he promised himself to get back to, which happened to be slotted on the shelf in front of your table. it’s sheer luck. and he might’ve taken advantage of it.

the student next to you is speaking. cyno, kaveh recognizes belatedly. “do you get it? because wave could refer to the motion of your hands, but it could also refer to an ocean’s wave, or what is the result of the wind blowing over the surface of—”

you clutch your head. with your eyes off the books scattered across the desk, kaveh sees this as a sign to turn away, a small smile on his face as he listens to your voice. it’s pleasant, much more than the ones he hears all the time around him. “please, cyno, have some respect for your senior and have mercy on the bags under my eyes.”

“i am,” cyno says sternly. “i am cheering you up. perhaps it’s because you aren’t under-sand-ing my jokes.”

when kaveh risks a glance, you throw a crumbled paper onto cyno, which he catches with unblinking ease.

“don’t make me call tighnari here,” you threaten, holding a pen to his face.

“is he going to give me pun-ishment?”

“cyno…”

kaveh gets his wits about him again and realizes that he had been picking more books than he needed, just in time to hear more of cyno, unfortunately.

“did you not understand? you see, the word punishment has pun in it, which is what i’m—”

“that’s it.” the sound of a chair sliding across the smooth floor echoes in the quiet halls. “you sit there alone. think about your actions; i’m going to get lunch without you.”

kaveh takes a step forward, you do so backward, and you catch each other’s eyes from the synchronized movement.

somehow, meeting your eyes makes his heart jump to his throat. he can’t tell if this is better or worse than when you were just at a different table and he didn’t have the chance to speak with you.

it becomes a moment too long: kaveh gets nervous, spinning around on his heels and pretending to look for more books. this is unlike him. his head aches trying to think about it.

once you leave, kaveh approaches cyno.

“cyno,” kaveh says with a smile.

“kaveh,” cyno acknowledges. “why were you just watching us? was there something wrong?”

kaveh’s blood drains from his face. “was it that obvious? was it?”

cyno nods. “you’re terrible at acting casual.”

kaveh sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “ugh—whatever. cyno, hey, listen. that person you were with…”

“y/n?” he tilts his head. “did you need anything?”

“no, no.” kaveh repeats your name in his head, and files it away for later. “do you want to get lunch?” he asks, which he later realizes is an unspoken invitation for a new side of cyno he wishes he didn’t know. the puns hurt his head more than frustrating clients.

kaveh sits by himself in lambad’s tavern, lazily rocking his glass back and forth.

he’s made friends. plenty. but he’s not sure if he can confide in them if he were to go to them in this state.

he thought could consider al-haitham as one, but that blew over on his own face some time ago. it was a mess. kaveh’s not sure which hurt more: when he felt his own spite with how he trembled in spitting al-haitham’s name, or the fact that someone he almost considered a best friend seemed unfazed at all when they both knew that they wouldn’t talk to each other the next day.

al-haitham removed his name from the thesis, and kaveh tore up the copy he had of it. but unlike al-haitham, kaveh couldn’t bear the guilt and pieced them back together.

now they haven’t spoken for a while.

and he sits here, frustrated to the point of near tears.

he’s never felt as lonely as he feels right now, burdened by the stress accumulated from all those years with no one to tell him that he’s doing something right, that he’s going in the right direction. it feels childish, but when he closes his eyes, he can vividly imagine someone patting his shoulder, telling him he’s proud to call him his son, or someone pulling him close, kissing his forehead, telling him that she’d come back for him.

kaveh picks up the glass and takes a long sip.

“are you even allowed to drink?” someone says, too close to him.

kaveh inhales sharply, unfortunately breathing his drink along with it. he chokes on it, and some dribbled past his lips as he turns to the sound of the familiar voice.

you quirk an eyebrow. kaveh wants to gape.

“it’s coffee, and i’m allowed,” kaveh mutters hoarsely, flustered. how long have you been there? were you just watching him?

“but you’re pretending it is alcohol?”

kaveh looks away. he was hoping that no one would notice his dramatics.

“it’s funny,” you tell him. kaveh wasn’t really hoping to appear funny in his sorry state.

you call for lambad and tell him you want your usual. when lambad returns, he hands you a half-full glass of what kaveh could smell as alcohol. maybe he should’ve done the same, but his goal was to feel awake enough to finish his due project, not intoxicated and slurring his words together.

“well?” you turn to him, your cheek against your palm as your arm rests against the counter. “are you gonna act like it and bemoan your regrets?”

students of the akademiya have started to become familiar with the fact that kaveh is a one-of-a-kind genius. names like light of kshahrewar started to circle the halls loud enough for kaveh to hear it from rumors and to his face when they asked to collaborate with him or when they ask for too much of his time.

he was expecting you to do the same. he wouldn’t even blame you if you tried because he wouldn’t hesitate to say yes. yes, yes, i want to.

there is no liquid courage here, just the presence of you and his muddled mind finding it far too comfortable.

“my mother remarried,” he says.

you blink, pausing mid-way through drinking your fill. “oh…?”

“i’m happy for her,” kaveh says, confident, firm.

“here’s to that.” you clink your glass against his.

you weren’t taking it as a happy statement. he doesn’t want sympathy, but he knows that whatever you’re thinking is the irrefutable truth. perhaps you were mourning with him because he, too, knows that there’s nothing content about him when he has to reassure himself out loud.

kaveh wants to ask so many questions. he wants to pull out the stacks of papers shoved in his briefcase, ask you what you think of it, listen to you tell him that you understand its beauty, but it’d be more beautiful if he weren’t so afraid and confined in someone else’s ideals. he needs to hear you say it because he knows you’d say the exact same thing as he wants.

instead, he sits quietly, watching you from the corner of his eyes, entranced.

and kaveh—he’s longing. or maybe he’s just starting to feel loneliness.

“so, what happened between you and al-haitham’s group project?” you ask, wearing a smile that spells out you know exactly what you’re getting into.

“oh, don’t even get me started,” kaveh groans.

the night ends with his heart a little lighter than it was before. (this is still fleeting, right?)

it seems like after that, you’re just everywhere and always by his side. kaveh loves it. especially when he’s too caught up with the world and needs someone to distract him enough to remember that the world is splendid.

despite his desperate attempt at drowning himself in coffee in hopes of being able to remodel at least three rejected drafts, he doesn’t get anything done at all.

he knows that giving in and offering to help out everyone who asks him for it isn’t healthy. he knows it, and he sees the effects on his face, the paleness of his skin, and the mess of his hair.

when kaveh stares his paper down, he can almost see himself on it. not a reflection, but a shadow. it looks like a bird’s nest. he might as well get feathers to go with his hair and complete the look.

someone taps his shoulder, and kaveh somehow doesn’t feel like reacting accordingly. “kaveh, is that you? are you kaveh?” the stranger asks, all in one breath.

it takes him a few seconds. breathing in and out deeply. he turns around, hopes the eyebags on his face aren’t as heavy as they feel, and smiles.

“yes?”

“ah!” he recognizes the student. a few years younger than him. he can’t quite come up with a name right now. “thank goodness. they told me that you could help me with this, i knew you wouldn’t disappoint.”

“oh,” kaveh says, quiet.

if any of his friends were here, they’d glare him down, tell him that he’s going to bleed himself dry if he even thinks about saying anything aside from no. but they aren’t, and kaveh’s heart is bleeding out instead.

“what is it?”

“kaveh!”

you come stumbling in between him and the younger student, whose eyes bulge out of his eyes. he seems to be shaking, if kaveh were to look any closer.

without warning, you throw an arm over kaveh’s shoulder, leaning down to press your chest against his shoulder blade. kaveh’s breath hitches.

you tilt your head to appraise the cowering junior. “oh,” you say, as if not realizing he had been there all along. “daneh. did you need anything?”

“no. no, no, i don’t,” daneh splutters. “i’ll take my leave, i think— i think i should— please excuse me.”

while daneh runs off, kaveh tries to recall his breakfast and the procedure he did in his head to calm down and give himself the boldness to meet your eyes. what is happening to him?

dried fish fillet pan-fried until crispy, served in creamy, white sauce, sprinkled with mint—

“kaveh,” you say. your voice is too close to his ears, which he is sure is turning red.

—kaveh, kaveh, kaveh.

“y/n,” kaveh says, defeated, the grip on his quill faltering. “what was that about?”

he thinks he can feel a grin, and he badly wants to see what it would look like on your face. “i don’t remember telling you my name.”

curiosity wins. kaveh can’t help but smile along with you when he sees it. “you did it on purpose?” then, “cyno told me.”

“you asked around about me?”

“yes, i did,” he says, almost petulantly.

the way your mouth tips to one side more makes your beam come off more smug. “is that so?” you say, and kaveh feels like he’s bared himself to the world. “what’s this?”

kaveh follows where you’re pointing. it’s a mindless sketch he was practicing with; he doesn’t remember drawing half of it. “i was… oh, i don’t know, i just needed a break.”

“this is what you do on your break?” your fingers hover over the page as you trace the curved columns and drooping roof. “green. they look like leaves,” you tell him quietly.

kaveh’s smile turns softer at your sincere awe. “i know.” he wonders what’s going on in your head, then wonders if he’s worth knowing. “what do you think’s missing?”

“i’m no architect, but it could use a bit more of a… splash, you know? color. maybe some—”

“ornamental flora?” kaveh finishes for you. “you’re right. there’s no need to worry about this, though. i must have been on autopilot creating this.”

“straight to the bin it goes? what a shame. it’s stunning.” there’s a seat right there, yet you insist on being pressed against him, bent over, still too close to his ear. you talk about beauty, and kaveh asks himself if you’ve looked at yourself. “i suppose i don’t understand how geniuses work. you are one of a kind, light of kshahrewar.”

then he is suddenly so aware of your hand having trailed upwards, resting on his nape. as you move, your skin rubs absentmindedly on where the hair fades. he shivers.

he hates that title. he feels like he doesn’t deserve any praise he receives at all. yet when you say it—

“you blush a lot,” you point out. kaveh wants to dig a hole and lay there forever. “it’s cute. your expressiveness is charming.”

“don’t—just say that.” his face is so, so red.

al-haitham finds him alone at the same table that night, unable to focus on anything but his racing thoughts. something is wrong with him, he’s sure. he’ll have to pay tighnari a visit and retrace if he’d picked the wrong mushroom.

al-haitham—and kaveh doesn’t know how he’s managed to figure it out so easily—makes a face that would be the closest thing to a smile. “i like y/n,” al-haitham says, out of the blue.

“what,” kaveh says flatly, coiled up like a cat prepared to pounce.

“smart enough to pull you back down and smart enough to make you listen.”

“it’s—” kaveh wants to say it’s not like that, but he goes silent thinking about it. “fuck off. you wouldn’t get it.”

al-haitham tilts his head to the side. “you’re the one not ‘getting it’.”

thankfully, al-haitham leaves him be. they are still on awkward terms, after all.

“oh,” kaveh says intelligently one morning. oh, no.

tighnari’s ear twitches. “the star of the show is here, finally.”

“everyone,” kaveh starts solemnly as the door slams shut behind him. the wind blows, and kaveh’s hair flutters, looking like he came straight out of those films.

“how has dealing with your recent client been looking?” tighnari asks with a smile. cyno and al-haitham nod because they probably didn’t think of even asking that. it’s why tighnari is kaveh’s favorite.

but he is not here to talk about that.

kaveh slams his briefcase on the table, rattling their glasses. “i’m going to confess.”

al-haitham makes a face. “who are we confessing to?”

“not we, al-haitham. stay out of this,” kaveh says. al-haitham’s expression doesn’t change. “i’m going to confess, and it’s going to be so romantic. no one can say no.”

“i would say no.”

kaveh glares, snatching his glass. “al-haitham, just be quiet. the adults are talking. this isn’t about you.”

“you invited us out here,” al-haitham points out.

cyno tilts his head. “to y/n, right?”

“about time,” tighnari sighs.

“yes, to y/n. and what do you mean about—” kaveh huffs, getting red in the face, flustered. “hey, aren’t you guys going to stop me? tell me this is a bad idea and that i’m going to ruin this meaningful friendship i have with y/n?”

“everyone wants you to confess already,” al-haitham says, as if kaveh is stupid for not realizing that. maybe he is.

cyno hums thoughtfully. “if i stop you, i think y/n will murder me with bare hands.”

“oh,” kaveh says, pleased. whatever that means. “alright, then, thank you.” he downs the glass of water—it was al-haitham’s, most likely, judging by the incensed expression on his face—and grabs his briefcase again.

“where are you going— kaveh, hey, where do you think you’re—” tighnari smacks his hand on the table, yelling after kaveh, who’s already by the door.

kaveh’s confession is messy, quick, and probably not as romantic as he had hoped, stumbling over his words and feeling as brave as an infatuated schoolgirl.

“pinning me against the shelf like this is quite the move, kaveh,” you say, and kaveh snaps back to reality. “why are we hiding?”

“sorry,” he splutters, backing off a bit but not enough to have you far from touching him. “i don’t want—someone could see us.”

“now, why are you afraid of that?” you grin, sly enough to make kaveh comprehend that you know exactly what he’s called you over here for. you do the—the thing again, where you trace shapes on his nape, and he shivers helplessly.

“i like you too much,” kaveh says, his face too red to be passed off as sunburnt.

suddenly, all the confidence he thought he had when he left the tavern dissipated. “you know what i mean. can you—no, will you… ugh, i’m not doing it right—”

you meet his gaze, and you don’t look away, the long silence starting to grow distressing for kaveh.

“kaveh,” you say softly, and that’s when kaveh’s expression crumbles. it could be because of how you said it, carving his name with your mouth so tenderly, but really, it’s because he feels like you wouldn’t look at him the same way ever again.

“yes.”

…wait.

you cup his cheek, pulling him closer to you by his hips. “yes, yes.”

“wait,” kaveh says, “really?”

you bristle, tilting your head down. are you embarrassed? kaveh feels a thrill run down his spine. “yes. about time—we finally did something about the unbearable tension between us. so, if you’re willing to have me…”

“yes, yes,” kaveh says, to all of that. “god, yes.”

embarrassed, you bury your face on his shoulder. kaveh can’t hide how fast his heart is beating when you’re directly on top of it. when you’re in it. “but listen, kaveh, i don’t know if i can stay here in sumeru forever. and i know it will be hard. so if you aren’t—”

kaveh is too happy to think too hard about that.

“no,” kaveh says, “no, i still want to try. please, let’s try.”

“okay,” you breathe, smiling brightly. “kiss me already, will you?”

kaveh prays and prays and thanks their archon that this isn’t fleeting. don’t let it be, not when he has you, and he has already found out your lips meld perfectly with his.

lord sangemah bay commissions him.

in the first few minutes after dori told him that she could care less about what he wanted to do with the place, kaveh didn’t know what to do with himself. he wanted to do everything, but when all of it comes rushing at once, he’s frozen in place instead.

he takes a step in the direction of the house of daena, then another, and another, until he’s sprinting and his heart is racing enough to have a smile crack across his face.

he spends the night in there. he feels crazy; other students can sense madness in his eyes. they all leave him be, as if they know that once they ask, kaveh will never stop talking.

kaveh feels his wrist sore, but he can’t stop. he wouldn’t be able to if he even tried, not when he thinks of a sinking leaf for a roof, windows shaped like petals, and your words—

kaveh pauses, glancing at the clock that has definitely been spinning faster than he remembered.

it’s sunrise. he gets back to work.

“you’re grinning ear-to-ear,” you say, poking kaveh’s cheek. “you’re not telling me something.”

kaveh isn’t. but only on purpose. he takes your hand and uses it to kiss the back of your palm as he blinks up at you, the embodiment of innocence. “what are you talking about? i told you about it. dori commissioned me, and she said that i’ll be in charge of the approval of the design and the construction process…”

while kaveh explains all this, gesturing wildly with his hands, he trails off when realizing you had just been staring at him fondly. his heart skips a beat or two.

“why—why are you just staring like that?”

“it’s hard not to.”

he kisses you square on the mouth, the blueprint of the palace of alcazarzaray hidden beneath his palms, and he thinks he’s never been happier.

(and under the same stars, the withering slithers in, and everything crashes down faster than kaveh could even say please, no.)

a/n art if you’re reading this i didn’t tell you but this is actually a second chance fic cus i remember you saying it’s one of your favorite tropes 🤧 but anyway ty for reading!

#606:GENSHIN #genshin impact x you #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #kaveh x reader #kaveh x you

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sophietv · 10 months

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The Love Blackout "It's all part of the f*cking story"

Ok, this is gonna be a long post. But hopefully, this will help you understand this very important piece of Kaylor evidence and explain LSK a bit better too.

PS: I'm new to Tumblr, while doing my research I'll tag those post/blogs but I don't know if there's anything else I should do, let me know!

Love Blackout Meaning

So all this Love Blackout discourse comes from those Glitch lyrics:

"But it's been 2190 days of out love blackout, the system's breaking down"

First, let's start by looking at what Love Blackout is supposed to mean:

"A suppression of information, especially one imposed on the media by the government"

Interesting... a suppression of information imposed on the medias 🤔

Like not being seen/papped together by the medias??? Maybe.

2190 days

Knowing Taylor, she wouldn't use 2190, a very specific number, for it to mean nothing would she??

So what does 2190 days means in years? It's 6 years:

Didn't she recently talked about a relationship, 6 years AND the medias recently?:

Yes! In her Lavender Haze Instagram Reel! The same where she talked about that scene in Mad Men 🤔

"If the world finds out that you are in love with somebody, they are gonna weight in on it"

"Like my relationship FOR 6 years"

Funny how she didn't say her relationship OF 6 years.

She wanted to protect the real stuff from media, in the last 6 years.

So if you count the days backward since Midnights release on October 21st 2022 it gives you Octobre 22nd 2016.

The last time Karlie and Taylor were papped together was at Drake's birthday on Octobre 23rd.

But The Love Blackout was not over on Midnights release day.

Taylor and Karlie were still not papped together at an event (they weren't papped at reputation stadium tour, they just posted a picture together). So Midnights release day should count in our calculation. And if you include that day. It ends exactly on Octobre 23rd 2016.

Before taking a deep dive into this Love Blackout, let's take a moment to talk about Octobre 2016.

Because A LOT of important stuff happened that month.

Octobre 2016

Octobre 11th 2016:

Taylor goes to diner at the Waverly Inn restaurant with Suki Waterhouse, Cara Delevigne and Dakota Johnson.

Later that evening, Suki posts a table cloth with : "It's all part of the f*cking story" written on it and a "K". She deletes it not long after. But us Gaylors have all jumped on it already.

Plus, one of Taylor body guard is papped leaving the restaurant with that Table cloth:

But what story?? What does it all mean??

Let's look at what happened in the days after this event.

I'm sure Taylor had a plan 😉

Octobre 12 2016:

Taylor goes to the Kings of Leon concert with the same friends and some more.

It's funny because, it's at this very concert, that Taylor is rumored to have started her relationship with Joe.

Are you starting to see the "f*cking story" they were talking about??

Soure iwanthermidnightz : https://iwanthermidnightz.tumblr.com/post/615953412601823232/in-conclusion

Octobre 13th 2016:

The next day. On a 13th.

Taylor, Karlie and Serena Williams go out at the Bowery Ballroom.

Yes. Yes, this combination of names is suspicious 🤔

Back to the 2190 days:

So we have established that counting backward from Midnights release and including Midnigths release day. We have Octobre 23 2016.

This was Drake's birthday party and Taylor attended with Karlie:

The article was published the next morning

In fact, it's the last time ever that they both were papped at an event together: (Love Blackout)

Two important Kaylor Lore came from that Party:

Golden tattoos "made your mark on me, a golden tattoo"

The Third Polaroid

If we follow the Love Blackout definition : "A supression of information imposed on the media"

We can stop there, everything makes sense, the song ties back to Karlie, that moment and everyone is happy.

But what if there's more to this?

The Blood Moonlit Implication

corneliastvendor did an incredible find: https://kwyw.tumblr.com/post/711447685996167168?is_related_post=1

(I also use picture of their post here)

Stay with me on that one and I swear this will all make sense!

Plus there's a lot to unpack after this.

In Glitch, there's the lyrics: "Nights are so stary, blood moonlit"

Blood moon is a lunar eclipse.

There is even a bloodmoon the Glitch Official Lyrics Video:

And when was the last lunar eclipse following Midnights release?

source: corneliastvendor

On Novembre 8th 2022.

If we count the days backward where does it lead us?

source: corneliastvendor

It leads to Novembre 9th 2016.

Karlie and Taylor last event that they attended together (except reputation) is Lorde's birthday on Novembre 7th 2016.

On Novembre 7th Taylor posted this picture:

And Karlie posted the same picture the day after on Novembre 8th:

It's the last post about them attending an event together (beside reputation).

The presidentatial election also happenened on Novembre 8th 2016, and Trump was elected... (I believe this is important).

So the last post of them at an event together is on Novembre 8th 2016. Wich means that the Love Blackout would have started the day after right?

Exactly 2190 days since the blood moonlit night followingg Midnights release.

And something tells me that this specific date is really important in their story, because here's a screenshot of The Man MV:

The. Exact. Same. Ring. and pose...

Lorde's birthday, is also the first time ever that Taylor wore the Victora Secret Angel Ring.

source: tilynation

I think she wore this ring there, knowing that they won't be seen together after as a way of being able to flag Karlie in the future.

The VS angel ring is really important and Taylor wore it at many significant events:

All the making of videos of reputation

The Call It What You Want scene of Miss Americana

On Decembre 4th 2019 (Kissgate anniversary)

So last post together before they disappear on Novembre 8th 2016, same day as the US elections.

This ties back to those lyrics: "I recall late Novembre, slowly I said, holding my breath. You don't need to save me, but would you run away with me? Yes"

Remember that in Miss Americana, it's Karlie who says "Yes".

The Love Blackout:

During that time, after Novembre 8th 2016, Taylor is mostly in London...and so is karlie.

Decembre 2016:

Taylor spends the holiday at her in-laws in St-Louis.

January 2017:

Taylor is in London.

There's a very interesting entry in her Lover Journal that talks EXACTLY about the Love Blackout:

"I'm essentially based in London, hiding out trying to protect us from the nasty world that just wants to ruin things. We have been together and no one has found out for 3 monts now"

And it is almost words for words her Lavender Haze Instagram Reel....

(Las time they were papped together, in Octobre 2016, Drake's birthday party, 3 months before)

And who was in England during the exact time frame? Karlie!

I believe the picture was posted a couple of days after.

But regardless, this is important because look at the Swans.

And now look at the Lover Merch:

Plus, Karlie did a very cute post that month with Swarovski Swans jewelery:

Refering the Eye Theory while she was at it!!!

Also, Taylor said in the Long Pond Studio Session that she went to The Lake District a couple of years ago.

And in Invisible String we have: "Bold was the waitress on our three year trip Getting lunch down by the lakes. She said I looked like an American singer"

Kaylor anniversary is March 6th 2014. So Jan 2017 is close enough to that anniversary.

Plus, 3 years for Toe would have been in 2019, wich doesn't match the "couple of years" of LPSS...

Jannuary 11th 2017:

Taylor is paped going out of a gym in LA.

It's the first time that she is paped in a couple of months.

And she wears the VS Angel Ring

source: tilynation

In the reputation secret session she explained how she was overwhelmed by this.

"her thought process was less about herself and more about how she could possibly have a normal relationship when this was her life"

Source: https://www.tumblr.com/screamedsooloud/174932790840/i-have-heard-mixed-interpretations-of-dancing-with

She then went directly to the studio and recorded Dancing With Our Hands Tied

She cried for an hour before recording the song.

Thankfully, like the song says after the Love Blackout part is that the system is breaking down.

And we had some glimpse of this with the Twitter "glitch" that made Karlie repost some of her old Kaylor post. Or her facebook being hacked...

I truly hope they are able to be free soon, they deserve it.

#kaylor #karlie #taylor #gaylor #glitch #love blackout #2190 days #toe #the fucking story #it's all part of the fucking story #lsk

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boundinparchment · 4 months

Text

Dream a Little Dream of Me - LV

Celestia had a cruel sense of humor. He knew this, even before his days as a student. But to be given a soulmate? Now, when he openly blasphemed against the cursed island in the sky? He would outlive you and the dreadful fated bond that haunted your shared dreams. There was little point in this. He could at least put a Vision to good use. People were nothing but disappointments. He had no use for you. Until you pulled the bow across your instrument and awoke a part of him long buried by self-hatred and arrogance. Soulmate AU; Il Dottore/Female reader w/ established personality and backstory. Slow burn. Lore and world speculation and interpretation within; follows canon story where possible. Fic is rated explicit; MDNI. Mind the tags. Chapter on AO3 here. MC's dress || Waltz No. 2 by Dmitri Shostakovich, performed by The Dixie String Quartet is on the Spotify playlist.

You nestled the last pin in your hair and admired your handiwork in the vanity for a moment. Perfect. Nothing would interfere with your mask nor felt uncomfortable.

In the mirror, your eyes flickered to the doorway to your dressing room, where Zandik leaned against the doorframe halfway dressed. He’d been there ever since you began working on your hair, suspenders dangling, only moving his head to momentarily look at something else. Some might have found such moments unnerving, this habit of his to watch and look and listen; for you, his presence was akin to a hug or a kiss on the forehead. Just another demonstration of his affection.

Tonight, you would go without the extra headpieces to conceal yourself. Hiding your hair would only draw more attention, after all, and you were already at the mercy of entering the ball alongside Zandik.

To do anything else, such as enter apart but spend the rest of the evening with him, would only bring more questions.

Hiding you, shielding you and keeping you to himself made sense, once upon a time. Deep down, you were certain Zandik still wanted to. There was a flatness in his bottom lip about the topic and he often held you tighter when you were alone, savoring the private intimacy.

But he, of all people, knew the importance of freedom, of recognizing one’s true nature.

Make-up and hair finished, you rose from the vanity and made your way to the door. You pressed a hand against his chest, his once-soft dark navy shirt stiff under your touch from being starched and ironed. As you cupped his cheek, absently noticing his lack of earring, Zandik turned his head and took your hand in his, reverently pressing a kiss to your palm before his lips hovered over your pulse.

“Go finish getting ready, mon rêve.”

Zandik pursed his lips slightly, lowering his head before he pointedly kissed your wrist again and closed his eyes.

He didn’t want to go. It didn’t take being his soulmate to figure that out. Anyone of his caliber would prefer to be working and making progress over social formalities. As often as he carved out time for you, be it dinner or a training session or simply a quiet evening reading while you played, he sent letters explaining a delay or a missed meal.

“Am I not allowed to savor you?” he asked, his breath tickling your skin. “Before the trappings of formalities take us both?”

You certainly couldn’t argue with that.

He lingered only a second longer before a knock at the door broke the moment like a hammer to a mirror. Zandik gritted his pointed teeth, baring them for a second in a frustrated snarl, as he turned his attention to the sound.

“About time...took long enough...”

You parted, grazing your fingertips across his cheek in apology, and he left to address the interruption.

Left to your own devices, you closed your dressing room door and finished getting ready.

At first, you hadn’t been certain about the lace you picked out on a whim. Columbina sweetly terrorized the shopkeeper so you could browse in peace. Most colors would potentially show through the gown, leaving you with only a few options. The handwoven material was soft against your thighs and waist, the garter belt straps far easier to use than the ones you recalled from home (although perhaps that was simply the benefit of handmade anything).

It felt strange to be without a corset but the dress draped over you and took care of the structure and shape, as discussed with the seamstress. The neckline was twisted and asymmetrical, a swath of fabric covering your left shoulder while your right was bare, save a single strap as delicate as spider’s silk. Your back was bare down to the dip of your waist where a short train fell and pooled behind you.

The dress shimmered and sparkled with the faintest blush. It passed for a soft white, the slightest contrast to Zandik’s crisp and cool preferences.

Your satin heels were simple, as were your earrings. By other standards, including the Tsaritsa’s, you appeared quite plain. But anything beyond the mask in your hand felt excessive, given its prominence.

When you emerged, Zandik was in the sitting room, dressed and idly twirling something between his fingers. He wore mostly white, with the exception of a light blue satin waistcoat, cinched, and a blue and white feather pinned at his lapel. The usual gem worn in his harness was pinned to the center of his white cravat. His inanimate mechanical bird rested over his shoulders, shrouding him in a mantle of feathers. You caught a flash of light blue in the tails of his coat as they curved and fell past his knees.

His lips moved but you didn’t quite catch the sounds he made, the words foreign and low as his ears burned pink. For effect, you gave a small twirl, and it was impossible to miss the sensation of his eyes skimming across your bare back.

“I take it you like it, then?” you said, smiling softly.

Zandik closed the distance between you with slow steps and stopped only when he was just in front of you.

“You look like crystal stardust,” he replied after a beat, lips grazing your forehead. “Similar to when you activate your Vision in a fight. Quite striking.”

He took your hands in his and you felt warm metal slide over your ring finger. When he pulled away, you looked down and found a rectangular aquamarine roughly the size of your last knuckle.

“Zandik, what…”

“I did say it was not the Tsaritsa’s place to determine what jewelry you wore. A ring seemed...efficient. Wouldn’t get in the way of you playing but be enough of a conventional statement to keep others at bay.”

He took your hand in his and ran his gloved thumb over the edge of the stone. It glowed softly, similar to his absent earring and the various ornaments he wore almost daily.

“Whenever I think of you, it glows. It should also be able to carry short messages but that hasn’t been thoroughly tested.”

The glow faded slowly, reluctantly. Zandik let go of your hand and reached into his inner jacket pocket, seeking something.

“I modified the communications technology I used elsewhere. Gemstones prove more...difficult than liquids such as primordial seawater or Irminsul sap, naturally.”

“Presumably, it has a partner?” you asked, eyes flicking from his hand to his face.

You were rewarded with a raised eyebrow. “I can never surprise you anymore, can I?”

His mouth softened into a smile as he found what he was looking for. Zandik extended his hand and you reached out to pick up the cylindrical topaz earring, clear and without inclusions, the perfect shade of golden yellow.

Your power, you, in place of...

Zandik angled his head and you fed the wire through the piercing, securing it when it was seated properly. The curling tendril of his bangs wrapped around it. It didn’t look as out of place as expected, given the golden accents of his suit, but it would be striking for those who knew his usual appearance.

Last night’s dance swam in your head, overriding any remaining anxiety as the topaz in turn began to light up from within.

“Can’t surprise me? Absolutely not true and you know it,” you whispered.

Please with himself, he threw you a playful grin before he slid his mask into place. You did the same, fussing with the straps in hopes your hair wouldn’t be ruined.

Hand in the crook of his arm, the two of you made your way downstairs, ready to get this over with.

Formality dictated that, given you were not publicly known nor the spouse of the Second Harbinger, you were to enter the ball unescorted as any other guest. But Zandik was not one for convention and his enjoyment at the expressions on his colleagues faces was palpable as you descended the stairs together and joined the awaiting Arlecchino, Columbina, and another man with white hair and a single visible eye.

“You’re on time, Doctor. It’s a comfort to know someone can tear you away from that workshop of yours,” the white-haired stranger said.

He approached, his figure as imposing as the Captain’s from what you recalled. Even Zandik had to adjust his neck to look at the other man.

The introduced himself as Pierro and you curtsied, the gesture ingrained in your muscles; in turn, you received warm lips on your knuckles.

“I have not yet had the time to watch you play, as most of my subordinates and Her Majesty have. But hardly a day goes by without your music gracing the halls and I look forward to hearing what you’ve composed.”

“Thank you, Lord Harbinger,” you replied, reminding yourself to soften your smile.

“You’re familiar with the room’s layout, where the orchestra is set up, your cue?”

“Yes, I am, sir.”

He nodded, offered a kind smile, and then said something to Zandik in a tongue you’d never heard before. Your partner clicked his tongue, ears pink, and you caught something pass over Pierro’s expression when he thumped Zandik on the back twice.

“He was the stranger in the desert,” Zandik supplied quietly as Pierro walked away. “One of the few who can say they’ve seen my...evolution, so to speak.”

The rest of the gathering was a blur. Columbina hovered behind you, head on your shoulder as she asked Alecchino if the fabric of your dress was something she should consider next. You suppressed a shudder as you recalled the Third’s kaleidoscope eyes and tried to pair them with a fabric that looked like liquid stardust.

“You certainly would be able to hide not wearing shoes, my dove,” Arlecchino conceded.

To Zandik, the Knave said, “Interesting change, Doctor. I never thought gold was your color.”

“Of course it is, Arl,” Columbina chimed in. “It’s not like Regrator has a monopoly on a color. Besides, our Doctor looks quite healthy now, wouldn’t you say? A little less sallow? Happy, even?”

Zandik let a breath out of his nose. “Is that so?”

You stifled a laugh and were thankful that, not long after, you followed the expected protocol and found yourself in the center of the ball room. You weren’t the only guest (Capitano, Pantalone, and even Sandrone were not unaccompanied), which you were thankful for, but their faces were exposed, known.

Zandik flexed and you squeezed his arm in return as you settled into position awaiting the Tsaritsa. The Archon was escorted by Pierro, her dress as light as air despite the volume of the layers. The fabric whispered against the floor in the hushed silence.

She addressed the guests with a quiet but warm authority, not unlike how she first greeted you. Compared to the performances from Focalors in the Opera Epiclese, the Tsaritsa’s praise of Her Harbingers was grounded, full of pride and yet never reaching the fantastical exaggerations the Hydro Archon was prone to. The Tsaritsa’s eyes sparkled as much as the shining star on the sash, pinned over her heart as always, but there was a falsehood to it; a layer of ice that would never truly thaw.

You hoped your composition captured her oxymoronic nature.

Following your verbal cue, you stepped away from Zandik and passed through the crowd on the edge of the ballroom, escorted by one of your usual companions. Columbina floated ahead of you, her soft slippers gliding over the polished floor. A sea of familiar faces awaited you as you took your position and picked up the baton waiting for you.

You couldn’t use the one Zandik made for you, not without the risk of summoning your claymore over the heads of your musicians.

Percussion and strings came first to create a subtle yet solid foundation of the rhythm. A single woodwind picked up their cue, joined after a bar by the rest of their section for a warm, if melancholic beginning. Flutes picked up and carried the tune not unlike the birds that always welcomed the sun whenever it broke through the icy clouds every morning.

You wove the string section in, rounding out the composition. Grandiose in the middle, you gestured for a little more volume, listening carefully for any off rhythm or out of tune. Columbina’s harmonic vibrato rang through, an eerie chill dancing along the melody.

Everyone hit their climactic cue as practiced, as perfected, and relief flooded you. Halfway done.

Without an idea of what was happening behind you, you could only move forward and continue to pull everything together, beat by beat. Natural instinct took over, nerves steeled, and you let the notes envelope you as you moved everyone into the next section.

Your arms ached not due to exhaustion from conducting but longing. The last time you’d performed for an audience properly was lackluster, a shadow of your skills and heart, the strings on your cello more akin to sand between your fingers. A distant memory that felt so far away now. You felt full, proud, in the same way you did when you slashed your claymore through a mech and allowed your Vision’s energy to pass through you.

In this moment, every note, every gesture, was tangible, real. Coaxed and carried into the air, nurtured by the musician and by you, given a purpose and a place to exist.

You guided everyone into the final bar and closed the song with a flourish, the last of the brass section echoing off the walls of the ballroom. Applause exploded as everyone returned to rest position and you smiled, ushering everyone to stand and bow. Your success was theirs as well and when you turned to gaze out at the crowd, you caught a glassiness to the Tsaritsa’s expression that hadn’t been there before.

You turned and arranged the sheet music for the other conductor as you thanked everyone; there was little time for much else when you’d invigorated the crowd.

Expectations were shattered.

And now the evening was yours to enjoy.

Even when you were apart from Zandik, however temporary, the air felt charged. You half expected lightning to strike at any moment as eyes lingered on you. The Second was immediately swept up into conversations that were directly related to ongoing events. He was spared a single moment to congratulate you before his attention was divided, the vein in his neck prominent from annoyance.

Columbina pulled you along, Arlecchino never far behind, wine glass in one hand as the Third prattled away. The Dove kept most at bay, deterring only the brave or the foolish who wanted to ask about your education, your connection to the Doctor; what kind of person were you to write a musical composition and yet accompany a man so logical and cold that he often spent such events looking for a victim to toy with all evening?

Sandrone approached you only once, not deigning to look at your companions, and congratulated you in a tone you recognized as polite disdain. It was the same kind of placating that you received in Fontaine, a falsehood that exposed itself as the words were spoken. She, too, was among those who did not understand why, precisely, the Doctor would have brought you back with him. A musician with a talent for composition, who wielded a weapon on occasion, was nothing special.

There were others better suited to his interests, his passions, she said in closing; you smiled enigmatically into your glass and wished her a good evening.

The cognitive dissonance would disappear eventually once your soulmate finished his social rounds.

“Is she always like that?” you asked the two Harbingers.

“Weirdly possessive and thinking highly of herself? Yes,” Arlecchino replied. “Her mechanical knowledge is rivaled only by Dottore’s but she can never quite position herself to climb higher. I suppose that’s what happens when you shed your humanity and limit yourself to being a puppeteer of other marionettes though.”

Soon enough, however, the Third and Fourth had their own duties to tend to. Across the room, you watched Zandik’s earring glow faintly, and he turned to look at you for a moment. He nodded in acknowledgment before turning his attention back to the matter at hand. You would be reunited soon enough.

You looked around and made your way to the perimeter of the ballroom, where tables and chairs were set up to allow guests to rest. Not far from you, you caught sight of a large figure overlooking the room, his black uniform cutting a striking contrast against the white and gilded décor of the wall behind him.

Greeting him with a curtsy, the Captain nodded to you in silence and then returned his gaze to the rest of the room.

“You are the talk of the evening, Maestra. I hope you do not allow common gossip to concern you tonight.”

The Captain was a man of little words and yet when he spoke, he always managed to make the most poignant remarks.

“I cannot recall the last time nasha Tsaritsa and her Jester smiled as they danced,” the Harbinger continued. “She lost her true ability to love when Celestia took her beloved Sovereign from her and froze him under the sea. The Doctor is not the only one affected by your presence and skill.”

His head turned and you saw nothing but an inky abyss through the opening of his helmet.

“You would do well to remember that, Maestra.”

“Thank you, Captain.”

He straightened and didn’t speak again, instead continuing through the perimeter, ever vigilant.

Your ring glowed and cast the slightest tint of blue against the glass of sparkling wine as you raised it to your lips. You looked around and nearly jumped when you found Zandik behind you. The Third and Fourth excused themselves with a biting comment about lovebirds and slipped into the crowd.

“I trust you were in good company in my absence?” he asked.

“I was,” you replied, an errant hand reaching out to straight the feather on his lapel. “Finished for the evening?”

“My obligations have been met and I have every intention of spending the rest of the evening uninterrupted.”

Zandik held out a hand in silent request. You abandoned your glass on the nearest table before placing your hand in his and breaking through the throng of people to the dance floor. A jolt jumped through his fingertips to yours and ran up your arm, your heart expanding of its own accord.

Just like the previous night, you fell into rhythm quickly, Zandik precise and in-step as he led. The sensation of eyes crawling up your back, skimming your joined hands and how closely you danced, was offset by the way his scent lingered and how perfect you felt against him. The closest feeling to this was stepping into a warm room on a rainy day or entering your favorite cafe. Being pressed to him, in his arms, was like being home.

Around you, the air felt charged again, only this time you were certain that if it struck, you would die fulfilled.

“You were right,” you murmured as he spun both of you around.

“Of course I was. But what about?”

“I missed it. All of it.”

The hand on your waist moved to your back, fingers pressing into the exposed skin at the small of your back. Words failed to truly encompass what you meant and the thumb stroking your spine reminded you that they weren’t necessary for the man dancing with you.

“You’re talented, rooh 'albi. You don’t need me to tell you that. There is a beauty, a strength, that only comes with wielding that knowledge and hard work. If the cursed principles were so dead-set on pairing me, I’m glad it is to you.”

You settled your head onto his shoulder as best you could, even if it wasn’t befitting of the dance, the bird feathers tickling your nose. His scent was intoxicating, sandalwood and mint and musk, and for the last movements of the song, you pushed out all other noise and sensations except for Zandik.

“Can we go get some air after this?” you asked. “I’m tired of being surrounded.”

Zandik pressed his lips to your ear, his breath hot.

“You read my mind. I’ve just about his my threshold for nonsense for the evening.”

The song ended, and you resisted the urge to kiss him as you pulled away, your faces a hair width apart despite your masks. Not here, you reminded yourself, even though every part of you burned with something beyond pure need.

Your soul longed to feel his, connect and tangle and weave itself. It was more overpowering than any sensation you’d felt before.

And cut short too soon when a familiar voice sent needles up your spine and broke your reverie.

“Would you do me the honor of a dance, Maestra?”

In a stupor, you turned your head towards Pantalone, a congenial smile on his lips and his eyes closed; he wore the face of a host pleased with his guests’ experiences.

You hadn’t seen the banker all evening, actually, now that you considered it, o ther than the line-up at the beginning. It was only polite that you danced with Zandik’s closest colleague, regardless of your own sentiments. Your partner had yet to let you go and if you truly had a choice, you would have preferred to decline and stay in Zandik’s arms.

But there were eyes on you and gossip spread quicker than wildfire.

“My pleasure, Lord Harbinger. But only the one.”

Zandik relented and you took your position with Pantalone as the next song began. Out of the corner of your eye, you watched blue hair and bird feathers as the other Harbinger moved about the room.

Did he suspect his colleague, you wondered. You’d told Zandik of your experiences, how cautious you preferred to be around the banker as of late, and he was no stranger to Pantalone’s machinations, either.

The banker led you in the dance in a familiar tug that made your stomach drop to your feet. He was on beat, smooth in his steps, but he expected you to follow him. You stiffened considerably, grateful that his gloved hands never seemed to touch your bare skin other than your hand.

“A wonderful performance, as expected,” Pantalone said. “You managed to pull a smile from Her Majesty, one that hasn’t been seen in years. A testament to your skill.”

“Thank you, my lord. It wouldn’t have been possible without the musicians I worked with, however. A conductor, let alone the composition itself, is only as good as those playing the music.”

“Ever humble, Maestra. For every commonality, there is a corresponding difference between you and the Doctor. The further you ingratiate yourself, the harder this will be, you know, when those differences truly take root."

You followed his cue to spin you out and when you returned, you narrowly avoided stepping on his toe as a response.

“He forgets himself with you around. I remember what it was to be enamored, attached, bonded. They succumbed to illness long before their time. So long in fact that I cannot remember their face clearly. But I recall their touch, their presence, and you would do well to remember that your Zandik has centuries on you. He will outlast you, surpass you, because that is who he is.”

What was Pantalone getting at?

He dipped you backwards, so low you swore you intended to drop you. For a man with a lithe figure, he had more strength and reflexes than he led on. When you were upright again, you spat the first words that came to mind.

"I don't intend to go anywhere. Face the truth and set aside whatever bias you hold, Lord Harbinger."

"And watch my closest colleague suffer when he experiences the inevitability of the lies you've created? Watch my nation wonder about the mysterious woman who is not a Harbinger but managed to seat herself so closely to the Doctor that she has to be some fearsome entity, bewitching even the Tsaritsa herself? I think not."

The music swelled to a close and Pantalone stepped away almost immediately. He bowed only low enough to be polite, gold eyes glittering through his lashes with malice.

“Enjoy your evening, Maestra.”

You were shaking by the time you wove your way through the crowd, grabbed Zandik’s hand, and found the nearest exit from the ballroom. Both of you found a courtyard, dusted with frost, and stepped outside. The cold air was crisp against your hot skin and grounded you almost instantly despite the goosebumps breaking out across your arms.

“What did he say to you?” Zandik asked firmly as he cast off the feathery mantle and draped the bird over your shoulders.

“That you forget yourself with me present. That you’ll outlive me, that I’m lying to you, worming my way into the Tsaritsa’s favor.” You paused, rounding your shoulders to press your face against the metal bird. “None of it is true. How can he come to such conclusions, Zandik?”

“Whatever nonsense Pantalone said is unique to his situation, one I’ve studied extensively. He’s given me a mouthful of drivel on more than one occasion, rooh 'albi. One’s experiences always color their perspective and they always think they’re right; they cannot see beyond themselves.”

You turned and faced Zandik entirely when his hand reached for you. Instinctively, you cradled his face in both of your hands, feeling the slightest hint of stubble already beginning to grow despite his shave this morning.

“It would be more painful to be apart,” you whispered. “Than to not know what this feels like.”

“A conclusion that doesn’t have enough evidence to support. But it is the driving hypothesis behind why we agreed to explore this, isn’t it?”

“Will you outlive me? Am I condemning you to an existence of absence, mon rêve?”

“I’m hardly immortal. I’ve extended my life and with a handful of exceptions, I’m human. I’ll die one day, same as you.”

Your breaths came out in smokey puffs, the chill burning your nostrils and yet you didn’t want to go back inside. Trembling, you angled your head and captured Zandik’s lips with yours, finding nothing but steady warmth, certainty.

When you opened your mouth, his tongue found yours with reflexive ease, tasting you. You craved more, one hand slipping from his cheek to cradle the back of his head and give yourself a bit of purchase. Hunger, need, far deeper than mere carnality, swirled in your chest.

Zandik broke the kiss first, dragging his teeth along your bottom lip with a satisfying pop.

“Uncertainty and fear do not become you. Forget the rest. What do you want?”

He breathed the words against the skin of your neck and the courtyard spun around you as his teeth grazed your flesh.

“You. Us. Whatever we carve out of this world for ourselves.”

Zandik peppered kisses along your jaw.

“Then you shall have me, musiqaa ruhi. All of me. Even long after every last star in the sky is gone and we are free of the shackles of fate that tie us together.”

The words carried both of you out of the courtyard and deep into the night, never out of reach of one another.

#dottore #il dottore #il dottore x reader #dottore x reader #dottore/female reader #il dottore/female reader #dottore x female reader #il dottore x female reader #genshin impact reader insert #soulmate au

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tomthefanboy · 2 years

Photo

Last week I made a simple post saying I wanted a D&D version of this chart with a gnoll in the middle. I know that most of the time if you want something on the internet you have to make it yourself, but I couldn't figure out what each axis would be.

I wanted the D&D chart SO BADLY that I started boosting the posts about it with tumblr Blaze... Post 1 EVERY Post 2 TIER Post 3 OF BLAZE Post 4

and after spending $250 I had a very wild week...

...and had a lot interactions to sift through!

Before I go too deep into the feedback and my reactions, I would like everyone to know that only ONE tumblr user out of.... (3604 plus 19895 plus 25938 plus 63883... cary the tens...) ONE HUNDRED AND THIRTEEN THOUSAND THREE HUNDRED AND TWENTY interactions actually had the combination of empathy, creativity, and reading comprehension to HEAR ME.

@emptymanuscript made me not one, but TWO D&D versions of the chart!

LOOK AT THEM!

Gnolls in the middle and everything! Fantastic.

This gives me the catharsis of being heard and a level of closure fitting with a $250 purchase on the internet. Especially when combined with all of these new friends (whom I will be spending the next month getting to know)!

Hoooooowwwwwwwwwever... I still want a version that has the D&D creature types Humanoid on one side and Beast on the other side of the gnoll. so lets slip under the cut and take a look at the suggestions.

So first off, Axis 1. The X axis if you like maths. This is where I felt like Human to Beast would fit. That changes the chart into something like this.

This will be the basis for most of the charts going forward, meaning that in addition to the top and bottom creatures we place at the extremes of Axis 2 (the Y Axis) we will also need to consider monsters that are "half-humanoid" or "half-beast" versions of those types.

Since I started with creature types, lets start with the two groups of suggestions that actually involved the Rules As Written (aka RAW) D&D monster types.

Fiendish - Celestial got a lot of hate from comments due to the lore of gnolls. Gnolls are the spawn of the demonlord Yeenoghu and reproduce through a wicked ritual. People claimed that this meant they could not be placed in the center of the chart this way. They were too hung up on the top of the chart being a celestial type creature, if you make the top of the chart a creature that's halfway between a demon and an angel (such as a chaotic neutral pixie) and the BOTTOM of the chart a creature that is full blood, bad-n-nasty demon (like say, Yeenoghu itself) then gnolls serve a pretty good middle ground. Then the corners would be creatures that are mixes of each of the sides (demonic beast, demonic humanoid, fey beast, fey humanoid) and you get a pretty solid chart like this;

A smaller group considered the mortal natures of both Beasts and Humanoids and chose a different set of criteria...

These don't have a unified voice but generally it was about an axis between what was natural/organic/normal and what was un-natural/in-organic/aberrant. Multiple creature types fit this bill at each end. Plants and fey are tied to living things while Undead, Constructs and Aberrations are based in inorganic and un-natural processes. We've already got fey in our last chart, so lets see how that looks on an axis against Constructs and Undead (both of these a created via magic like gnolls, so we'll leave out the alien aberrations and try not to think about them reproducing).

Before we continue, let's take our first side bar.

There were some fools out there thinking they could shame me for spending my money on this, proving they don't understand budgets OR the internet. Only ONE of you out there thought to ask me for some money and I respected their hustle so much I gave them enough to blaze one of their own posts. Don't think the rest of you will get some though, even if you come at me with charities or shit, so don't try it. That time has passed.

Such foolishness. Weep for them. Don't tag them. Definitely do not interact. I DO hope they get this blaze post as well though. (Hey @staff, you can do that right? It's not like any of them would have the mental fortitude to read this far after all)

From here we get into the more esoteric groupings. This is where the people who are VERY into D&D and the people who are completely unfamiliar overlap. Let's look at the physical descriptors first.

Size categories are a thing in D&D and Gnolls are medium creatures like dwarves or elves and most humanoids. There's plenty of small monsters and plenty of big ones as well so it is relatively easy to find Large or Small creatures on the humanoid side and the Beast side and then a Tiny creature for the top and a Huge creature for the bottom.

This makes for a satisfactory chart, but not one that captures the complexities of the original animal meme.

The Softness and Hardness of a creature can be reflected in they shape and their stats. It may be acidic but the gently curves of a black pudding are pretty soft, just like the fists of an iron golem are hard. The corners of a chart like this are a bit trickier, there's all shapes of armored things you need to find softer partial-beasts and partial-humanoids. Oozes don't come in half measures so a different creature might be needed.

Let's take a look at another side bar before we continue. There were a lot of people with something to say that were unhelpful in new and different ways.

I'm sure there are dozens of you out there who had been thinking about a Third Axis (the Z axis) this whole time. That stops being a "D&D version of this chart"! Not applicable to this discussion! Same with anything that doesn't have gnolls in the middle!

Next up we have some suggestions for metrics along SOCIAL lines instead of physical ones.

The lines here are very blurry. Gnolls work in packs but are not really social creatures. The destroy civilizations brutally but they do use weapons and magic items they find. They can speak language. The cuddle-to-kill spectrum is as skewed as the fiendish - celestial axis discussed earlier. Aside from player characters, gnolls want to kill and destroy things. I know the savagery is attractive to the monster-fuckers out there but they are 100% kill you. to go further down that axis you'd have to start looking into undead or outer planar beings that destroy the body, the mind, and the soul. So lets look at the Feral to Civil axis instead. Gnolls don't have as much infighting as some creatures. They are at least capable of teamwork to achieve their goals of mayhem so lets focus on that as a metric. Modrons exemplify orderly cooperation for a group cause but there's no CULTURE there. Just Law vs Chaos. We need a civil creature that is neither/both humanoid and beast and an utterly feral creature for the other side that will even turn on its own kind. Even more feral and unthinking than your average beast... But we simply can't ignore sexiness and willingness to cuddle in the equation... Metal to Cottagecore sums it all up best I think, so let's look for that.

When you practice for an exam a lot people will tell you to trust your gut. I'm here to tell you to trust your first Blaze results. As much as I loved the thrill and attention of the higher tiers, the roller coast ride of the $25 tier was enough to get me where I needed to go. Let's see one of the first suggests and the most popular.

Gnolls are a combination of brutal warrior and arcane origin story. There are certain gnolls with magical powers but in general they are not relied upon. This makes them a good middle ground. So we need a creature at one end that is a cunning spellcaster and an opposite that is a muscle-bound brute. A number of arcane outsiders fit the first while half the giants fit the latter. But anything with a language is not quite dumb enough for an extreme. So there may be a need for outsiders on both ends if an unthinking/non-magical outsider can be found. BUT are outsiders by default eldritch magical creatures? Also, should I listen to the person that posted my face in their reblog more than the others? That seems important...

As much as I'd love to have different creatures on every single chart as a weird flex, but the Tarrasque literally REFLECTS SPELLS and is one of the few creatures dumber than an ogre without being an ooze, construct or undead. On the other end, I had considered that the Death Tyrant or the Demilich with its Strength of 1 might represent the ultimate embodiment of mind over matter, but nobody has as many MAGIC spells and MIND powers as the Illithilich!

As we reach the final side bar, allow me to slap down a block of tags for all the people who left notes specifically asking to see how it ends. that way they get an alert even if this blaze doesn't get to them. @trickstercheshi

@kippkap

@musings-of-an-avimancer

@thatwingeddaydreamer

@smokenmoths

@queuest

If you did a CTRL-F and just scrolled down to your name, I don't take it personally. I applaud your efficiency!

Let's see all the "none of the aboves" that my Blaze Train awoke as it shrieked across their dashboards!

Not all comments are created equal.

Out of all the excellent ideas there was one that stood out to me early on and only got a few more people fully on board through the entire Blaze Train.

Yes. That's right. We come all the way back around to physical descriptors. But it's not that simple! On the original chart, the rat, weasel, and raccoon are also mischievous and unpredictable with their grabby little hands. Meanwhile the quadrupedal Horse has evolved just as far in a different direction. Solidity and strength are in their hooves. Llamas and goats benefit from this power and stability but use it for wildly different purposes. There are also easy D&D creatures to pick out for each side without dabbling in lycanthropy or shifters.

And now I can rest, knowing that I have the chart that I wanted all along. Now I just need to blaze this and see which chart people like the most and how many ideas people have for the Z axis on them. (you sick bastards)

#Blaze Train off the rails #Last Full post #everything else will be reblogs #tumblr blaze #D&D #welcome to the deep lore.#argue all you want MDMR #gonna come at me ya best come correct #with reblogs and diagrams #and the first image is the invert so I can see it on the activity log easier

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encanto-extended-edition · 8 months

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✨️Bienvenido, everyone! Thank you all for your patience with this event, we are so excited to share this with you! ✨️

To start, we are your lovely hosts for the Encanto OC Appreciation Event:

Amanda @overly-dramatic-artist & Pena @dororoxpenana!

You may recognize us in the Encanto OC community already with our OCs Angela Morales Estrada (Amanda) and María Madrigal (Pena), but you’ll find out more about them during the event! 💖

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

♡ The main goal and drive of this event is to spread some much needed love and appreciation to our fellow OC creators! You are all such a gift to this fandom, and it’s more than time to recognize each other! While we will be reblogging everyone’s creations on to this blog, this event will only work as intended if you all interact with each other! We can speak for almost everyone when we say that it is entirely welcome for you to go feral in the tags and comments. Share your enthusiasm. Go wild. If someone says something kind to you, you are legally required to pass that on ten-fold (Just kidding, but please please interact with each other!). ♡

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

✨️The Prompts!✨️

👋🏼 Week One (October 1-7) : Introduction. Time to share the lore of your OC! For this week, we are looking for your OC’s backstory, what connects them to canon, and who they are as a person! This can include detailed character sheets, a written backstory, drawings of them through stages of life, how you developed this character, even a ‘slide show’ of their background; literally anything pertaining to who they are.

❤️ Week Two (October 8-14) : Relationships. Let’s take a deep dive into the interpersonal relationships of your OC! Family, friends, lovers…enemies? For this week, share any works that give us a look into who your OC is connected to; it can be a family tree, drawings of them with friends, their wedding; as long as there is some form of connection, you’re golden!

🌟 Week Three (October 15-21) : Extras and Add-Ons. Have an AU? Or two? Or ten? All you full of bits of information and side stories? Share it all! This week is for you to share anything and everything you want. Any sort of obscure alternate timeline, a detailed overview of their sense of fashion, pieces of trivia like their favorite food or weather, what their handwriting looks like, comics you’ve been wanting to share. Anything and everything is game!

🫂 Week Four and a Half (October 22-31) : Share the Love. Spread around the appreciation for your fellow artists and writers! Send head-canons or thoughts about someone else’s OC, or maybe some artwork or a one-shot! Or even express your delight for another person’s creativity. We highly encourage you to engage with people you may not be super familiar with.

You are more than welcome to use older material for this event, especially for the first three weeks, but we just ask that you make a new post with this blog tagged so we know to reblog it! New creations are greatly encouraged, but we understand that making art and writing is time consuming 💖 You can also make multiple posts for each week if you have a lot to share, don’t feel pressured to cram everything into one post!

‼️Rules regarding the event:‼️

🔴Please refrain from comparing OCs against each other or to canon characters in a negative manner. This event is meant to appreciate everyone’s efforts, we’ve all dealt with enough negativity already. Be kind.

🔴We want to keep this event friendly for all ages in the fandom, so we will not be reblogging any blatant NSFW content on to the blog. You are welcome to share things of adult-theme, but just know we won’t be sharing it from our platform (we’ll drop a like though).

🔴Any content of incestuous nature will not be allowed whatsoever. This is a one strike policy. Don’t do it.

🔴No tracing or stealing works from other artists/writers. If you have commissions or artwork made by other people for you, that is more than welcome, but do not steal someone else’s work.

🔴No content made using AI

🔴Keep in mind this is not a contest or a competition; please be kind to other artists and writers. We are all on equal ground here.

✨️Please tag our event blog (this one!) as well as using the hashtag ‘encanto oc appreciation’ & 'encanto oc event' as we want everyone’s work to be shared on our blog like an archive of love!✨️

💖If you have any questions, please feel more than welcome to reach out! We want this event to be as fun as possible! 💖

#encanto #encanto oc event #encanto oc appreciation

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sunny-speaks · 10 months

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Househusband Harper Headcanons

Hello, hello !! I am going to be redoing some blog design stuff when I WORK UP THE MOTIVATION-- so if the blog name changes, y’all know why!!

Anyway, I've been deep diving for Harper crumbs to accurately write him as one does. (gotta get everything lore accurate, would not be able to live with a too OOC in any of my fictional literature./hj)

AND I KNOW HE WOULD RATHER HAVE YOU BE THE AT-HOME PERSON AND WHATNOT while he works but hear me out… He would be such a good househusband, alright? AUHG- Everything's under the cut, lol.

also Harper is from @campwillowpeak !! I can remove the tag btw, if you don't wanna be tagged in further works ;-;

So maybe the two of you had been married for years. Doesn’t make Harper feel any less happy when you introduce him to people as your husband or when he sees the ring on your hand that he bought for you before you leave the house, it always leaves him with a tingly feeling.

After all, now you’re his. And doesn’t that sound just lovely?

Harper’s got that side job of his to keep the both of you financially stable, as long as you don’t ask too many questions about it.

He doesn’t understand why you need to go work, when the two of you could be comfortable at home from his profits.

Especially when he has more than enough to keep you happy with him!

But if that’s what his partner wants, who is he to deny you?

He’s always anxious to let you leave the house, you’re so magnificent, what if on your way home, some creep tries to hit on you?

He knows you wouldn’t cheat on him and that you can defend yourself, but… but wouldn’t it be safer to just be at home with you?

Or worse, what if one of your coworkers, god forbid your boss, tried to… coerce you into something!

He knows you always wear your wedding ring, and he made sure that it was shiny enough to show people how much he loved you. (Material objects could never dare to show anyone how much he loved you. He loves you sooo much and he knows you love him too !)

But there are a lot of ignorant people out there!

If you let him, Harper's be more than glad to mark you up, stake his claim so your peers know exactly who you’re married to.

“Cara miaaa,” Your husband looked up at you with wide, pleading, unfaltering eyes, “You said your coworkers were giving you trouble, right?” He’d practiced saying it without violently cursing out your coworkers. You wouldn’t like it if he was mean about them… Even if it was true.

“Unfortunately, yeah. They can’t take a hint, even with this.” You gestured to your wedding ring. “I don’t get how it’s so hard for them to understand I’m a faithful spouse…”

And with that, Harper set his plan into action. “Y’know… we could do something a bit more drastic, if you wish, dear?”

Your eyes glinted with a hint of mischief. “And what would that be, Harp?” You had a vague idea what he was hinting at, but you wanted to hear him say it.

“Mm, just showing them how much I looove you… and maybe biting you.” He muttered the last part to himself, a light flush making its way to his face. He had not prepared too much on how to convince you.

“You mind giving me a little preview?” You sat yourself down on the couch and beckoned him towards you with a finger.

“Not at all, cara mia.”

But there are some pros to being alone when you’re gone!

Harper being your dutiful househusband means he can and will do anything and everything for you !

(And indulge himself in certain activities while you’re gone)

He also has complete control over everything you sleep in, you eat, you wear.

So if you notice some odd stains on your clothes or weird tastes in your food, he doesn’t know what you’re talking about ! Do you not like the food he spent so much time preparing? Or the laundry he did to take a load off your back ?

It’s not his fault he gets so lonely when you’re gone ! It’s just because he misses you so much !

You should just quit your job, you know? It’s so dangerous ! That boss of yours was targeted by an arsonist ! (Because he had the nerve to try and touch you.) Gosh, what if you were next ?! (Harper would never do that to you though… <3)

You should just listen to your husband, he’s so worried for you ! Won’t you pleaaase hear him out?

#cwp harper #harper x reader #cwp harper x reader #yandere #yandere x reader #🧨headcanons

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boots-with-the-fur-club · 2 months

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So, I may not have won the poll, but I’ve decided to continue on the hand lore anyway! I’m going to tag some people but I want to warn you all this contains heavy angst. Make sure to check the tags for trigger warnings!

Start

@daboyau

@phoebepheebsphibs

@littlemissartemisia

@foxolotlfreak

He had been patting himself down basically every second to make sure those things hadn’t left his fanny pack and then suddenly they just weren’t there anymore.

The heavy feeling in his chest started at that point.

He barely started forgiving himself for causing the first apocalypse, his brothers telling him he had no way of knowing what would happen.

Others were to blame, like Warren or Hypno for taking the key in the first place. The Foot Clan, for asking for them to take it.

Sure Leo’s showboating and carelessness were bad but it wasn’t out of malice. He didn’t want to destroy the world. He didn’t know.

But this time he did know.

He saw the worst things imaginable and knew how it effected the people he loves. All he had to do was to stop those stupid mushrooms from hurting anyone else.

Leo saw the look in Raph’s eyes when he admitted what happened. Raph insists that it was just a mistake, that con artist was grabbing at his fanny pack. They probably fell out afterwards or he took it and dumped it when it couldn’t be sold.

What Leo saw in his eyes made him feel differently.

It was similar to how he always looked at him during their missions after Leo became leader.

Judgment.

He can’t be completely sure that Leo wasn’t just being careless. That one distraction caused chaos and havoc throughout an entire multi universe competition.

Leo feels like Raph feels the worst about the little girl he was protecting at first. He was so sure he stopped them from getting her. How they got past him to the nurse’s office, he doesn’t know.

That hand is a big part of it at least though, that’s clear.

Leo feels more tears starting to come.

He’s lost all credibility now, hasn’t he?

Not just to his brothers, but probably everyone there. There’s nobody else to blame for what’s happening. There’s no way anyone else has screwed things up like he has.

His fingers twitch, rubbing his arms painfully.

He needs to calm down before he starts becoming too rough with himself.

Leo reaches into his fanny pack in order to grab one of the many fidget toys. His mouth forms a deep frown at not feeling a favorite of his in there.

So he lost it too?

Pathetic.

Movement in the side of his vision has him glance towards it.

The hand.

That freaking hand!

It has his fidget toy!

Did…..did it take the container too!?

Maybe he didn’t lose it!

It was stolen!

Hope starts replacing that burden in his heart and he stands up.

The hand starts skittering away, so he quickly starts following after it. He’s too distracted to realize that his brothers are also distracted. They don’t notice him as he leaves.

The hand gets into a room and Leo backs it into a corner.

“Finally! You’re not getting away this time. Maybe if I get rid of you the spores will go away again too!” Leo summons and raises his weapon, smiling out of pure relief.

His expression drops when the hand spreads its fingers, revealing some type of canisters between them.

They fall, quickly releasing “gas” that is all too familiar.

He tries to hold his breath and rushes towards the door he came in through. Leo is only quick enough to see the hand escape and the door close behind it.

Leo bangs on the door as hard as he can. Even if no one hears him, maybe his hands will break through instead.

Luck fails him.

He runs out of time.

The room is filled to the brim with spore smoke as, eventually, even his turtle DNA fails him. He finally has to breath.

Contaminated air fills his lungs with a large gasp.

He shuts his eyes tight and covers the sides of his head where ears might be if he had any.

As long as he doesn’t see or hear anything he should be safe until he gets found, right?

Wrong.

Horrific images flash around in his mind until he’s forced to open his eyes to stop them.

What he sees is absolute devastation.

It’s a war zone all around him. Everything is in pieces. Buildings, roads…..people. Shots are ringing back and forth, some of it looking like it’s from alien tech.

He knows exactly what the spores are showing him and it feels his body with a dread that should have been prevented.

Leo can’t move an inch.

It’s obvious to him that the spores are just showing him what he thinks the bad future looked like. The only information he has about it is what he got out of Casey JR. Admittedly, it’s not that much because his brothers made him promise to stop telling Leo about it.

It was impeding his recovery, Donnie said.

He wishes he knew more so that he could tell the loud, nagging voice in his brain that maybe this isn’t just what he made up to fill in what he didn’t know. That this has the possibility of being connected ninpo memories. That this is exactly what happened and is even more awful than he ever could have imagined.

Kraang appear in front of him.

Fear shoots through his veins. They’re not real. He knows this isn’t happening. It can’t be happening.

“What’s this? The leader of the resistance without his guard dogs? They must have finally abandoned their weakest link after you led that last squadron to their deaths. Culling them was highly enjoyable.” The kraang taunts.

Leo grits his teeth.

“Why can’t you just leave me alone!? Why is it always me!?”

The kraang laughs like he’s just been told the funniest thing in this war torn world.

“Because you deserve it. Every second of all of it! And even more than this!”

He can’t think of anything to retort. He’s so tired of everything.

“No last words? Good. We’ve all long since grown tired of your voice.” The kraang aims his hand at Leo, a light beginning to power up inside.

Fine, it’s all fake anyways. This might as well happen. Nothing he can do about it even if he wanted to. Nobody is coming to help him either.

The kraang keeps laughing the more his laser powers up.

No wonder Lou Jitsu always escapes in his more spy themed movies. Death rays take way too long to work.

He tears up.

Leo wishes his dad was here.

The laser finally powers up. The kraang smiles widely. Something red goes up in front of him.

Wait, what?

NO!

The laser fires.

Leo is suddenly grabbed and tossed away into safety.

He tries to quickly stand up, but something stops him.

Raph’s future clone is on keeping him to the ground, hidden behind a broken building where he can still partially see the kraang from before.

The original Raph had bought time for the clone to get Leo to safety.

Both of them were being erased, disintegrated.

Tears stream down Leo’s face as he stares up at the clone who stares back with a smile.

Leo knows fully well that anything he says right now won’t actually be said to anyone.

He says something anyways.

“I love you Raph. Thank you. For everything. I never told you.”

The clone smiles more.

“Big bros always know. Love ya too, Leo. Tell everyone else for me.”

Leo watches as the last parts of his brother’s clone floats away as ninpo into the air.

He’s suddenly somewhere else, but still in this future hell scape.

Donnie’s arm is around his own and Leo sees blooding pouring from a head wound. Usually it makes them look worse than they are and it’s not actually a concern but this definitely looks like it is.

“Leo…..put me down….”

Leo can’t stop crying.

“I told you I’m not leaving you here!”

That’s not his voice.

Well, it is and it isn’t.

Deeper, rougher, far more strained.

“Put me down!” Donnie shoves himself away from him.

Leo falls over trying to catch him but they both end up on the ground.

Oh, he’s supposed to be hurt too.

He sits up and tries to get Donnie up as well.

“I thought this apocalypse made you smarter. I guess you could never be as smart as me, even when they hit me like this….” Donnie says, staying put.

“Shut up! You’re coming with me! Mikey is just a little further!” Leo screams.

Donnie chuckles.

“You won’t even give me a pity laugh? I’m the funny one, papa used to say so.”

Leo desperately tries to stand.

Donnie yanks him back to the ground.

“Leo. Listen. I need a flavor. F-Favor, I mean. Favor….”

Oh.

Donnie’s not making it either.

“Anything, Donnie.”

“Stay here for a minute. It shouldn’t take longer than that.”

Leo chokes back his sobs as he begins clinging to him.

“Okay. I’ll do that.”

“This might be the brain damage, but I want you to keep talking. Don’t stop until….you know. Tell your dumb jokes, even.” Donnie clings to him as well.

Leo takes a shaky, deep breath, then starts talking about anything and everything.

The night sky is clear above them both.

It reminds him of when they shared a room and their ceiling had those glow in the dark starts.

They used to lay together like this and talk all night because of their shared insomnia.

Leo talks and talks and talks, getting some quiet responses from Donnie until eventually he doesn’t.

He doesn’t stop talking or holding until he’s being physically separated by Mikey and some other resistance members.

Leo doesn’t stop talking still. He wants Donnie to respond even thought he knows he never will again.

Mikey hugs Leo tightly and he finally starts crying so hard he can’t talk anymore.

It’s all over as Leo is placed somewhere else again. He knows this part very well. Mikey is shattering into golden pieces in front of him with a big smile.

Leo doesn’t care anymore that he shouldn’t be able to do anything.

He rushes forward and holds onto Mikey’s arm to try to help like his brothers told him they did before.

A chain wraps around Leo, moving him back to Casey just before Mikey fully disintegrates.

He was stupid to try in the first place.

A dumb decision.

Again.

And again and again and again and again and-

It never stops.

His brothers won’t let him die.

It’s not fair.

He doesn’t want to be the last one left.

It hurts.

He’s tossing Casey into the portal and Leo is gone right after, right in front of him.

Leo is drifting now.

A black, empty void.

He’s even more tired than he was before.

There’s no one else with him. He can’t even be reunited with everyone he lost, or could have lost.

It’s so confusing.

The prison dimension was pretty similar to this place. It’s even more even empty than that somehow though. Probably because kraang prime isn’t here with him.

Leo is completely detached from reality.

His eyes have dimmed as he sits on the floor, against the wall. He’s running out of time for anyone to be able to do anything.

He can’t hear the shouting coming from somewhere outside, not close by but shouting nonetheless.

Mikey noticed first that he was missing and now the others are in a complete panic. They lost him once and now they’re losing him again.

They don’t know how right that is.

As the situation only gets worse, a hand watches, perched up high on the ceiling like some kind of spider who’s carefully watching the webs its made.

There’s already one prey caught.

Three more to go.

#tw sibling death #tw hallucinations #tw head injury #tw head trauma #tw injury #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt #2018 tmnt #no fun in fungus #rise of the tmnt #tmnt 2018 #rise fanfiction #rottmnt fanfiction #rise leo #rottmnt michelangelo #i’m getting spored now i guess

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jils-things · 5 months

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promo post! (i moved blogs!!)

💚 hi hello! i'm jil (19, she/her), i recently moved blogs and wanted to start brand new! my now old blog is @aqqleshiqqing, it will now act as an archived blog - but you can still visit it if you want to! i'm a yumeship artist and sometimes writer. i'm a huge fan of making deep lore, so expect a lot of me rambling too

💚 my main rom faves are red (pkmn: sm) and ste.ven stone (pkmn: r/s/e + oras. more on the manga), not really okay sharing both at the moment. my other fave is tom from edd.sworld, i'm a bit inactive with him, but i still care about him a lot! (okay with sharing too :]) i have many more faves, but they're at the back for the most part.

💚 i have a special fondness for a lot of my familials from the same media, expect me to talk about them a lot too!

💚 it's still a fresh blog, so i might be queueing up some old posts made by me and others just to fill the void

💚 i'm currently very invested in all things poke.mon related (including poke.spe and (fri.day night fun.kin') poke.pasta (lullaby + perd.ition mods) so do expect majority of that~ but i am a very big fan of video games as well :]

💚 my blog MAY contain a lot of capitalized texts (me talking, im usually very "loud"), horror, violence, and suggestive humor. i tag for the last category.

💚 don't follow if you're a: pro/com.shipper, a minor (+16 only, but current minor mutuals are okay. new ageless/minor followers will be blocked on sight), not supporting of yumeship/oc x canon content (because that is 99% of what i do here.)

💚 i take art commissions as well (will be linked on pinned soon, still working on it!)

that's about it for now, looking forward to say hi again~

#~ misc #ill be keeping the same tags toooo :]]#selfship community #selfship promo #pokemon selfship #safeshipping

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jemariel · 8 months

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Falling With Style

By Jemariel

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Dean/Cas

Words: 15,831

Tags: Wingfic, Dean has angel wings, Human Castiel in the Bunker, domestic fluff, wing grooming, flying lessons, love confessions, Cas has self-worth issues, first kiss/first time together, Profound Bond Gift Exchange: Hot Entity Summer

Written for the Profound Bond gift exchange for @eyesandwingsonlyafterdark !! I hope you enjoy 💙💚💖

Summary: Dean's facing a long summer cooped up in the bunker with nothing but his own brand new eight-foot angel wings for company. And Cas, of course. But the former angel is acting super weird about this whole thing, and Dean can't figure out why. He could sure use some help from the expert, though.

(In which Dean learns to fly, and Cas remembers what it's like.)

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Excerpt and tag list below the cut, let me know if you want to be added to or removed from my tag list!

On this particular Thursday, Dean finds Cas in the library. Deep in the stacks, in a section that mostly contains books on angel lore, as far as Dean knows. He’s got an armload already and is peering with great concentration at the cobwebby shelves.

Jackpot.

Dean sidles closer, winching his wings in tight as they’ll go so they don’t knock anything off the shelves (again). Be a shame to give away the game.

Closer… closer… years of practice keep his feet and breathing quiet until he can count the hairs on the back of Cas’s neck. And then, just as Cas is juggling his books from one arm to the other—

“Whatcha lookin’ for?”

Cas jumps about a half a mile, and a dozen moth-eaten volumes go tumbling to the floor. Sam’s gonna kill him.

Worth it.

“Dean—” Cas exhales, a hand on his chest and murder in the set of his jaw. “What the hell are you doing?”

Dean grins and relaxes his wings a touch. “Just having a little fun,” he says, tongue between his teeth. For some reason, getting a rise out of Cas always gets him giddy. It’s like champagne bubbles under his skin, and ever since he sprouted these feathery intruders, that’s where he feels it the strongest. It’s like all the feathers are standing on end. It’s happened before. Like the time he pretended not to know or care about the Library of Alexandria for an entire hour, and Cas had gone on a righteously livid rant that left him flushed and sweaty. There’d been a chalkboard involved. Or the time Cas had wandered into the kitchen all pre-coffee grumpy in nothing but sweatpants while Dean was making eggs. That hadn’t exactly been Dean getting a rise out of him, but it gave him the goosebumps all the same.

Dean had chosen not to analyze it too closely.

With a glare in Dean’s direction, Cas crouches down to pick up the books, ruddy around the ears. It’s then—looking down at Cas’s head just below waist level—that Dean realizes just how close he’d positioned himself. His wings tingle harder, and his stomach does this funny little twist as he shuffles back to a more respectable distance. Suddenly, he has to swallow a whole mouthful of saliva and clear his throat before he can speak.

“Seriously, what are you doing back here?” he asks. Totally neutral. Completely normal.

Rising to his feet, Cas hands over one of the books. The spine looks like it’s decided to make a break for it, hanging on by a few bare horsehair threads. Dean actually feels bad for a minute before he reads the title.

“Alchemical Properties of Angelic Minutia? Sounds grim.”

Cas nods, still averting his gaze, fingering the dusty pages of a slim, gilt-edged volume. “I was hoping to uncover a solution to your… predicament.”

“Gabe said it would wear off on its own, right?”

One of Cas’s eyebrows climbs toward his hairline. “And you trust him?”

Dean snorts, handing the book back. “Not even half as far as I can throw him, but why would he lie about that?”

“I can think of a dozen reasons. But even assuming there is truth in that, why shouldn’t we try to”—he gestures vaguely with his laden arms—“encourage the process?”

Dean considers, crossing his arms as he leans against a bookshelf. The edge of the shelf digs into his bare bicep, and he shudders to think what kind of dust his feathers are picking up. “It’s not so bad,” he says. “Kinda grateful for the vacation.”

Cas squints at him in flat disbelief. “Dean, you have put up a protest every time Sam has left on a hunt for the last two months.”

“Yeah, well.” How does he explain this? “Netflix ain’t gonna binge itself, right? C’mon. I’ll make some popcorn.”

Cas nods vaguely as Dean slaps him on the shoulder and turns to escape the library. “Give me a moment to… reshelve these, I suppose.”

“That’s the spirit.”

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Tag list below:

@magnificent-winged-beast @starsinursa @silvie111 @gneisscastiel @yourspecialeyes @weathergirl83 @daughter-of-the-rain-and-snow @maliciouslycreative @suckerfordeansfreckles @rosemoonweaver @paperwhitenarcissus @maiosaurus @naruhearts @super-powerful-queen-reyna @anironundomiel-blog1 @jasminrogue @onsarah @cassbutt-and-the-righteousbi @elanor-n-evermind @sharkfish @fangirlingtodeath513 @angelarbaugh @psychoticblackhappiness @holyllamabanana-blog @lanaserra @freckles-and-wings @7faerielights @casbean @destielhoneybee @feraladoration @deaneatscake @generaldeliciousness @bre95611 @psychicbouquetblaze-stuff @lizleeillustration @hexentaenzerin @peacewhenuaredone-blog @nickelkeep @ellen-of-oz @malmuses @ltleflrt @archiival @idaaeri @kazshero @depairt

#destiel #destiel fanfic #destiel wing fic #wing kink #human castiel #profoundnet #profound bond gift exchange round 10: hot entity summer

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tallymonster · 2 days

Text

Memories of Us

Chapter 18 : Remember Me

AO3 || Master list

A/N: so this is my longest chapter...it's around 6.7k words lol and there's a lot of lore drops going on soooo yeah enjoy lol.

Thanks to @cheesy-cryptid for their blessing on each chapter. Your support means the world to me.

Super special thanks as always to @micropoe10 because this girl has literally been here from day 1 supporting, uplifting, pushing, and helping me with this story. She even wrote the last few bits to save me from myself and I can never thank her enough. Love you so so much Rue.

Tags: @justporo @satanicspinosaurus @sleepy-timaeus @tragedybunny @davenswitcher @wayward-hel @hereliesblackdragon @misscrissfemmefatale

Astarion had begun to realize how much he enjoyed Octavia’s company. She was the eternal sunshine behind the clouds and each bit of affection from her broke them apart and allowed the light to come through.

The thought of someone caring about him was a lost concept, that someone could see something inside him other than what he saw himself.

Octavia was utterly infatuated with Astarion, she wondered if there was more to this routine the two of them found themselves in. The feeling of their bond becoming stronger, drop by drop of her delicious blood.

She was desperate to unearth more of his secrets, all while still hiding her own. Octavia was blinded by her own hypocrisy, the irony of her wanting to dig into his past while denying her own started to eat away at her. As she stared at herself in the mirror by the front door, she felt something tugging at her to be truthful with him.

There was a knock on the door, she took a deep breath as she finished fixing her hair.

You need to be honest with him. He was with you. It's the least you can do.

Astarion waited outside Octavia’s house, she had suggested going to a night market in Rivington she heard of. A friend of hers apparently told her it was a great place to go on a date.

He was somewhat nervous to be out in the open so publicly with someone. It had been so long since he let himself do it, not feeling the same as when he and Tav would walk hand in hand on the same streets.

Astarion leans on the rails of her front steps, he stares up into the starry sky. The stars sparkled as if they were there just for them. He smiles to himself, hearing the door open.

“Hello beautiful. I was afraid you were leaving me to go to the market all by mys-” He turns and the words are taken out of his mind as he takes in Octavia’s appearance.

She was in a mid-thigh length mustard colored pinafore dress, with a black short sleeved shirt, and some black tights with black leather ankle boots. A woven bag hung from her shoulder. This was one of the few times that Octavia could swear he was rendered speechless.

Octavia giggles and gives Astarion a kiss on the cheek, “Oh come on, you've seen me naked, I’m not dressed that seductively right now.” she walks past him and turns to wait for him at the end of her steps. “Ready to go?”

He nods with a grin and follows behind. As he steps down to the sidewalk, he holds his hand out, testing how she will react to his small gesture.

Octavia blushes, her heart fluttering slightly. She swings her shoulders back and forth, in a giddy wiggle. She smiles, biting her lip and takes his hand in hers. It felt cold, but so safe. She felt his fingers slip between hers in a comfortable lattice.

They walk through the street, silent at first. After they cross the road, Astarion wraps his arm around her waist and speaks. “You look wonderful by the way. I know you said you didn't look enticing, but I beg to differ. I think you look absolutely appetizing.” He squeezes her hip, Octavia’s cheeks are flushed a light reddish tone.

Astarion pulls Octavia close, hugging her in a playful embrace. She laughs as he bends down to kiss her. “You're being awfully affectionate. Are you feeling okay?” Octavia asks Astarion.

He lovingly cups her chin with his hand and pulls her in for another kiss. “I’ve just been really happy these last few weeks. I just figured that since we are on a date, I would act like it.” Astarion shrugs, giving Octavia another kiss before releasing her from his arms.

Octavia leads Astarion down the road to where the market was being held and becoming more populated. It had been so long since Astarion came to the street markets. He hated the crowds, the noise, all the different smells of foods he can't enjoy, but with her by his side it's all just background noise.

Astarion looks down at Octavia, a smile creeps into his face as he watches her eyes light up with excitement. Perhaps he could suffer for a bit longer, she did seem pretty eager to go out like this. Who would he be to deny her such simple pleasures?

Octavia can't decide where to go first. To her left was a stall with handmade leather bound books, to the right some flower stands, and not to mention all the food! She took Astarion’s hand and began to walk towards the flower stand. He smirks letting her lead him to wherever she wants.

“I love flowers. My mom and I had a garden at my childhood home where we grew so many. I tried maintaining it after she died, but it was just so hard to keep it up by myself. My dad was never one for being outside in the dirt even though he grew up near the Druid Grove.”

Octavia confesses with a laugh, she turns to Astarion and her smile drops a bit.

“I'm actually going to visit him soon. He's moving back to the Grove and he asked me to come help him empty out the house…feels weird to go back to basically throw away all the memories we made there.”

Astarion notices the change in her smile, the drop of her shoulders, and the way her hands come together. Her fingers twiddled at the variety of flowers carefully laid out with a far off stare. He takes one of her hands and holds it gently.

Octavia turns to him with faint tears on the corner of her eyes. She takes a deep breath and shakes her head. “It's been a long time coming. My mom's been gone about 16 years at this point, so why do I feel so sad?”

Astarion’s grip tightens on her hand. He knows this feeling too well. The feeling of moving on and allowing the grief to come and go as it pleases. Astarion takes in their surroundings. The last time he allowed himself to be in this type of market was the last time he saw Tav.

“You feel sad because you miss her, love. I've been there myself. In this very market no less.” Astarion finishes his sentence with a soft breath.

Octavia looks at him, recognizing the same sadness behind his eyes. The grief of losing someone you love. She remembers one of the things that makes her feel better is to talk about her mom, so maybe he can tell her about his loved one? “What were they like? The person you lost?”

Astarion glances back at Octavia, he hadn't thought about telling Octavia about Tav just yet, or at all. He pays for a bouquet of wildflowers that Octavia’s eyes locked onto. They turn and begin to walk away from the stall.

He hesitates before giving her a sad smile. “I’m not sure if this is the right time for that, I mean, I'd rather focus on you tonight, if you don't mind.” They sit on a bench near the edge of the market. Astarion looks down at the bouquet, taking a small pink rose and placing it in Octavia’s hair.

His hand lingers on her cheek, he leans down and kisses the corner of her eye. As he pulls away, he catches the smile that forms from her lips. He hands her the bouquet, as she leans on his shoulder, perfectly distracted away from her questions.

“No matter how long it is. Know that you will always carry a piece of her with you. As long as you remember her and the love you had, you'll never be without her.” Astarion comforts Octavia as they hold hands.

Astarion's good at the little words that everyone likes. The pleasant platitudes to soothe a broken heart. Meanwhile, he continues to push his own feelings of grief deeper down.

He could still see Tav standing at the opposite side of the market, the bag she carried full of contents hung from her shoulder. He stood about 8 stalls away from her. Her sweet scent hit his nostrils as he traded meat for bottles of blood.

Astarion had turned his head towards the scent, nearly dropping the glass bottle in his hand. He couldn't believe she was still in Baldur’s Gate after 30 years. He didn't know how long he was staring, until the merchant cleared their throat.

Astarion thanks them and turns back towards Tav. She's staring into a mirror that sat on top of the stall. She seems as if she's looking for something inside of it, a dreamy far off look behind her eyes. He hesitates wondering if she would be happy to see in or if she’d punch him. He’s frantically running scenarios in his head when he notices her head lift up.

Astarion shields his face with his cowl, only his bright red eyes shining through. He slings his bag over his shoulder and hesitates to walk closer to her. Tav fully turns to face him, her face the same kind loving light he saw in his trances. She smiles, beaming towards him, a look of recognition and love.

He swallows, the world seems to be closing in.

Instantly, though, that same world comes crashing down when he hears a small voice calling out. “Mama!! There you are! We’ve been looking all over for you!” A little girl runs past him, straight into Tav’s arms. Soon after a man comes up to them both and wraps an arm around Tav's waist.

He watches as the man kisses Tav and leads her away.

The rest of that day the way she looked past him burned in his mind. Could she have already forgotten about him? How long did it take for her to move on?

There's no point in dwelling on it now, he's got a lot of other things to worry about of course.

“Astarion? Are you okay? I didn't mean to pry again, I’m sorry.” Astarion is broken away from his thoughts by Octavia’s soft apology, her hand resting in his. He looks down at their hands intertwined. The flowers sit on the bench between them.

“The last time I saw her, she was standing at a stall like the one we were just at. I'm pretty sure she forgot who I was…or she had this look on her face like she did. I’ll never forget the way she looked into that mirror…This glossed over sort of blank empty look to her eyes. It was so strange, like she didn't remember where she was for a second.

Besides, she had a child and a husband? Partner? I don't know. I didn't hang around too long to ask, and I didn't want to cause any issues so I just stayed out of it.” Astarion confides, his voice mournful and far away.

Octavia feels the grip holding her hand tighten a bit, perhaps she's edging too close to his boundaries again? She rubs her hand on the top of Astarion’s arm. The motion soothes him and replaces the icy shards of sadness that pricked behind his eyes.

Somehow though, as he looks into her dazzling green eyes, he feels that lovely warmth in his chest. That feeling of comfort he’s longed for over a century.

They lock into each other, taking in their collective grief. Their sadness was the thing bringing them closer together. “You know, I’ve never told anyone about her.” Astarion confesses, “It's the first time that I've felt comfortable to feel this grief with someone who can relate. Thank you for giving me that opportunity to share a little with you.” He leans down and kisses her sweetly.

Octavia smiles reluctantly, a small shy blush grows on her cheeks. She must have something on her mind. “Is everything alright, my dear? You seem lost in thought.” Astarion asks.

She nods slowly, turning to look out to the market. “I was hoping that I wouldn't bring up anything sad, but I guess I couldn't make it through one date without ruining the moment.” Octavia huffs in a soft awkward laugh. “Gods, for once I wish I could stop being so melancholic and just enjoy the good things my life has given me lately. Like you.”

Astarion sits up a bit, he could feel a slight warmth at the tip of his ears, was he blushing? He clears his throat and asks, “Really? What about me?”

She smiles and plays with his fingers in her hand. “Where to start? You're kind, well…to me,” a soft giggle follows “you're smart, incredibly handsome. I feel pretty fortunate to have someone like you on my side, you understand me. Whoever let you go is foolish to have done so, but they opened up that path to you for me. So maybe they weren't so foolish after all.” Octavia lifts her hand, kissing the top of his hand.

“She didn't leave me. I left her. I left because I was scared. Scared that I couldn't take care of her how she wanted. Scared that she would figure that out on her own. That she would wake up one day and realize that I ruined her life. So I ran. I didn't even say goodbye. I just picked up my bag and left in the middle of the night. Like a coward.” Astarion spits out, the shame and regret dripping from his lips. His lips purse as he bites the inside of them.

Octavia frowns, she takes the flowers and places them on her lap. She plucks one out and begins to softly spin the flower, opening the petals. “You're not a coward.” She brings the flower up to his ear, tucking it behind.

“I don't think you're a coward for trying to keep someone you loved safe.” Her hand lingers on his cheek, caressing his face. “‘The things we do for love’, as my mom used to say.”

Astarion melts into the warmth of her hand. His heart felt the grief it was used to, but with her here it didn't seem so devastating. To allow himself to be vulnerable with someone felt strange, as most things involving Octavia do.

They sit in silence for a few seconds, before Octavia speaks “Not to change the subject or anything because I feel awkward,” she laughs a bit, “but I've noticed that you haven't been wearing your glasses lately? Did something change?”

Astarion bristles a bit, having to think on his feet. He was a bit hesitant to admit that he was not feeling the need to keep hiding behind the magical lenses any longer. In reality, he began to feel more comfortable to be himself around her.

But instead of giving her that openness, he lies again. “Oh, I…felt like I'd be calling more attention to myself if I were to have them on right now. Besides, wasn't it you that asked me why I wore them indoors right as Gale introduced you to me? I feel like this is the opposite of that.” Astarion ends with a soft tilted giggle.

“Imagine if someone stopped us to ask why I'm wearing sunglasses in the evening? As you so tactfully had that first night? That would have definitely ruined the date. Either way, you didn't do anything wrong. You’re perfect.” Astarion pulls Octavia close, releasing his hand on hers, and drapes his arm on her shoulder.

Octavia melts into his embrace, a bittersweet feeling hung over them. She brings her hand up to her shoulder and interlocks her fingers into his again. Astarion felt her relax a bit.

“How long will you be away?” “Do you want to come with me?” They speak at the same time, interrupting each other. Astarion clears his throat and Octavia laughs quietly. She turns her head to ask again, “Do you want to come with me to Wyvern Hills? I'll be gone for around six days?”

Astarion thinks it over, the idea of meeting her father was intimidating, even more so because he would probably have to explain his particular affliction. “I don't think so, darling. You deserve a break, and I don't think Gale can handle everything by himself again. I had him do that once and he nearly quit. It's too much for one person to handle. It would be unfair to him.”

Octavia feels Astarion’s other hand start to run up and down her arm. It's as if he was soothing her, or himself, maybe both? He was beginning to recognize the same comfort of sitting in silence with a loved one. The reminiscences of a quiet evening under the stars.

The sounds of nature envelop them, an intimate orchestra for two lost souls floating in an everlasting ocean of grief. In the vast darkness, they find the light and come together.

Octavia had lost herself to these feelings like so many times before. Astarion was born in it, used to the push and pull of it. Having lost the will to swim against it and let the waves crash over him, caught in its current thrashed around, but this was different.

To Astarion, Octavia feels like the safety net pulling him from the depths. The warmth of her affections was melting away his fears. His heart wanted to tell her how he felt. To confirm that after all these years, he finally felt the warmth of loving someone again.

“I lo-” Astarion almost confesses when he catches himself and continues, "I'll miss you. A lot. I just realized that we haven't been apart since we met. It'll be strange not having you around.” He leans down and kisses her cheek. “Come back to me, okay?”

Octavia felt her cheeks flush and her heart flutter.

Was he..? No…I’m probably just projecting.

Octavia couldn't deny her feelings for Astarion. The little flashes of lightning whenever he held her, made her laugh, or kissed her were exhilarating.

She couldn't deny that she loved him.

Octavia was terrified to tell him so after hearing him talk about his lost love. Who would she be if she heard all his pain and immediately said “Well, guess what? I love you!”? Her face felt hot, how long had they been sitting here?

She turns to Astarion and kisses him, she lets her feelings pour into their kiss. Octavia could feel tears gathering behind her eyes, “I’ll miss you too.” She smiles and kisses him again, feeling him lean into her, his arms wrapping around her.

Octavia pulls away a bit, “I should go home now, I told my dad I would try to be there as early as I could.” Astarion responds with a whine, Octavia giggles as he plants small kisses all over her cheeks, nose and lips.

“Don't miss me too much, Star.”

“Is that a challenge, darling?”

They laugh as Astarion unwraps himself from her, he stands and holds his hand out. Octavia takes it and they walk off into the night.

They leave the flowers on the bench.

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

Octavia walks up to the cobblestone cottage she grew up in. The patch of wildflowers she used to run in have turned into a full meadow, their blooms alert and open as if welcoming her back.

She walks up the gravel path to the doorway, noticing a small hummingbird on the hibiscus bush her mom lovingly tended. She smiles watching it flit away. Her trip would be over soon. A ping of sadness runs through her, saying goodbye to the place is going to be hard.

Suddenly the door swings open. Her father, Ralomaer, stands at the doorway with a giant grin on his face. He has a red flannel shirt on with some white powder on the bottom and some dark pants.“Hey kid! Have a nice walk? Are ya hungry? Got some breakfast made up for you!”

“Did you make waffles by any chance?” Octavia asks, with a laugh. Her dad tilts his head, his brows furrowed and he shakes his head, “Yeah, how’d you know??” Octavia laughs harder and points at his shirt. “You're covered in powdered sugar, Dad.”

Ralomaer laughs and waves his hand over the fabric, cleaning it up. Octavia walks up to him and remarks, “That must come in handy, you always used to hate doing laundry.”

Her dad laughs, “Well when you live alone, it's kind of pointless to wash one thing at a time. This is faster and better for the environment. Anyway, go eat. I'll meet you upstairs when you're done, it's attic day!” He waves his hands in a flourish, as Octavia walks past him and into the kitchen. Her dad climbs up the stairs.

Later that morning, Octavia sits cross-legged on the floor of the attic. Her father sits across from her on an old wooden chair. Between them sat an open wooden crate full of letters, drawings, photos, and many memories from her childhood.

“Okay, now I understand why you wanted me to come by and have this visit with you so urgently. This is really nice to go through with you, Dad.” Octavia chirps excitedly.

“Well don't thank me, thank your Auntie Taeladra! She insisted I clean the attic since she bought the house from me. Kept telling me something about ‘Preserving family history’ and ‘can you tell Octavia to come instead, isn't this pretty much her job.’” Ralomear holds up his hands, making finger quotes.

“Gods, she sounds like my coworker, Gale.” Octavia and her father laugh, as she rifles through the crate. Finding medals, trophies, countless books, letters, and pictures.

“You know, I think you’d like Gale. He's pretty funny. He's smart, witty, and so quick! He's been a great mentor, and an amazing friend. I'm really lucky to have him.” Octavia smiles warmly as she keeps rifling through the crate.

Her father stares at her, a puzzled look on his face. “What? What's that look for??” Octavia asks playfully.

“Are you dating this Gale? That was a lot of complimentary language for someone who is just a friend, my darling.” Ralomear gently teased.

“Dad! No! He's not my type! Besides, I'm way too busy with all the research and work and just…everything.” Octavia laughs, hiding her face behind her hair. She quickly looks away, hoping that her answer would squash this conversation.

“Oh my little bookworm! Don't keep your head in the books too long, you'll miss out on writing your own story.” Ralomear pinches Octavia’s cheek adoringly.

She smiles at her father, a little embarrassed laugh leaves her lips. A feeling of dread grows, she knows that her visit might end with her having to possibly define whatever she's got going on with Astarion. A small seed of insecurity plants itself in her stomach. How could she ever find a way to ease her father’s worries when it came to her love life?

“I’m gonna see what else is back there.” Octavia gets up and starts looking through the rest of the crates that occupied the attic. They were all stacked neatly in the corner of the little room. She walks up to the circular window next to the stack and opens the thin curtain.

Small dust spores kick up as she swings the window open, allowing the fresh air and sunlight to flood in. When she turns she notices a dusty tarp in the darkened corner of the attic. Some canvas frames sat on top of the tarp, it was staged as if it was trying to conceal something.

Octavia comes up to the items, carefully moving them aside. What she finds is an old wooden crate. “What the..?” She runs her hand on the edge of it, easily sliding it open. “Woah…hey Dad? I found something?”

Ralomaer looks up quizzically and wanders over. He stands with a hand on his hip, the other scratches at his beard. “Well would you look at that! Didn't even know that old crate was in here! No wonder your auntie wanted you to come through here, you and your museum skills are great for finding old junk!” he laughs.

Octavia began digging through the crate. Inside were old spell scrolls, tomes, stacks of handwritten letters from her great grandmother, the other adventures she traveled with, even highly detailed hand drawn maps!

Octavia could not believe the amazing treasure trove she had just unearthed in her own home. How long has this been here waiting for her to find it?

She finds a book full of sketches of various plants, animals, and locations all over Faerun. Octavia fixates on a fully illustrated image of the inside of what looks like an Illithid colony! She continues to flip through it, mesmerized by the way everything is drawn.

Octavia turns the page and is struck with drawings of eyes that look relatively close to Astarion’s own. She feels a strange sort of recognition from looking at the drawings.

The blood colored irises that were lovingly depicted in charcoal and ink, have a haunting familiarity to them. She knows Astarion is old, but she never asked exactly how old…

Her father pulls her out of her suspicions, “Lookie here, Tavvy! I found a rather interesting letter!” Ralomear recalls as he unfolds the antique parchment, handing it to Octavia. She reads the letter, her mind a little frazzled by yet another strange coincidence.

Darling Tav,

Laurent tells me you've been having nightmares again. It's been about 20 years since everything happened, are you still being plagued by the memories of it all, or just one particular, specific person? I still have some of my contacts from the House of Grief from my days as a Sharran. If you're serious about taking the risk, I could put you in contact with them. Let me know when you two get settled into your cottage. Lae and I can be over as soon as a tenday.

You're always in my thoughts, my dear friend.

Love always,

Shadowheart

“House of Grief? That sounds ominous.” Octavia remarks, remembering the extreme rituals Sharrans would take in order to release painful memories. Octavia could hardly imagine the suffering of those who felt it necessary to forget something, to now know that her own grandmother endured that shakes Octavia to her core.

“Sharrans eh? Good thing you did that whole exhibit on them! Maybe your friend Gale can help you out with this stuff?” Ralomear remarks.

“Yeah…maybe… Do you think Grammy had some PTSD from the whole Netherbrain thing?” Octavia asks quietly, the seriousness weighing heavy on her heart.

“I’m not sure, baby. Your mom always avoided the subject with me. Something about not wanting to dwell on the past and enjoying the time you had in the now. It was the one thing I never understood about your mom. How I wish you could ask her now.” Ralomear solemnly muses. He looks at Octavia, smiling mournfully.

They stay in the silence for a moment, before Octavia breaks. “I miss her. I could really use her brain right now.” She runs her finger along the outside of the crate.

“I miss her too. You definitely took after her, your brilliance is obviously her doing, my heart.” Ralomear takes Octavia’s hand in hers, squeezing it lovingly.

“I am so proud of you, I know your mom would be too. Now, let's keep digging through her stuff!” Ralomear smiles warmly and releases her hand.

Octavia shuffles through a stack of books, most of them run of the mill books, nothing too noteworthy. Until she notices a blue-gray fabric bound book. In silver letters across the front it read ‘Warming the Melancholy Heart’. She cards through it, until a small hand written letter falls out.

Octavia opens it, scanning the page. She gasos and begins to read the letter to her father.

Laurent,

The Unburdening your wife chose to follow through with should have fully set in by now. I have sent you some recommended reading should you have any questions about the procedure. Your wife has all my gratitude for all she did for me and the others. To give her this blessed relief in this trying time is the least I could do.

As per her concern, she may have some fleeting memories, but those should fade in time. Should she have any aftereffects or complications, do not hesitate to contact me again.

Shar’s blessings be upon you,

Nocturne

“Unburden? What does that mean?” Ralomear asks Octavia, handing her the letter.

Octavia reads through the thin book, the words describing the taking of memories sound as if they're trying to lessen the serious action being taken.

The remedy may seem non-existent, but it is not so. No heart that beats is a stranger to that which gives it joy - you must seek it out however you can.

Octavia flips through the book, most of it is filled with testimonials from people who went through the process. Lines of affirmation for what has been done to forget. Her eyes linger on one of the pages describing the aftereffects, symptoms ticked in red ink, tally marks keeping track of each in black.

✓ Forgetfulness ///

✓ Melancholy ////

✓ Face blindness //

✓ Staring at nothing //

✓ Nightmares of past memories /////////

These shall subside as time passes, you will need to guide your loved one through the process moving past their burdens. Should they seem different, another session may be required.

You may notice your loved one have an empty, far off look to their eyes, that will lift as their healing progresses. If you find they are forgetting more than intended, return to the House of Grief.

Be aware of them looking into mirrors for a long period of time.

"Mirror??? What?” Octavia gasps, covering her mouth quickly after. “Tavvy? Everything alright? Your face looks really sweaty all of a sudden…” Her dad reaches out and places the back of his hand on her forehead. “Oh yeah, you're feeling a little warm, why don't you go lie down? We're almost done for today, so I can finish up and bring some tea to your room?” he gives her a soft pat on the shoulder.

Octavia nods, “Sure, thanks Dad.” she can't wrap her mind around everything she just read and saw. She grabs the sketchbook and the book on Unburdening and walks out of the room. She descends the thin ladder leading up to the attic, then walks into her room, closing the door.

Octavia presses her back against the door, sliding down until she's sitting on the floor. The sketchbook closely held to her chest.

She opens the book back up to the images of the eyes. There's no doubt in her mind that she's looking into the same eyes that she had back on the bench outside the market.

Suddenly, Octavia remembers that she had the enchanted journal at the bottom of her bag. She crawls over to her bag at the foot of the bed, and flips furiously through it.

One entry immediately catches her attention.

Gods, it's been incredibly hard trying to keep these entries as neutral as I can. There's no telling what else could come for A. About two tenday ago, we went through that freaky meadow, A and I ran into a Gur hunter named Gandrel. Said he was looking for a vampire spawn, I noticed A’s whole attitude immediately change. His face looked as if he had been slapped. Those eyes that keep staring at me, turned so fox-like and angular. As soon as we heard A’s name come from the hunter’s lips, it was over. I have never seen him move like that. He swears it’s Cazador, but what would Cazador need him for?

Octavia presses her knees up to her chest. She closes her eyes and tries to push the notion of this being Astarion whom her ancestor is referring to out of her mind. It can't be him, could it?

She reaches over to the foot of her bed and rips through her bag, shaking out its contents, until finding a black velvet bag. She slips the ribbon off, taking out the red leather bound book that Astarion had given her.

She flips through, reading the first few lines. It speaks of people who had been captured, the various ways in which they were beaten, tortured, abused, and finally, bled try and turned.

Each one had an entire 20 page section dedicated to their specific treatment. Near the bottom of one page, she notices a name.

According to Aurelia, the Gur sent someone to find him. I sent Dalarya and Petras to stalk the Gur encampment in Rivington. They are to kill whoever does not give up information.

The boy will be found, I need him to ascend. The Ritual of Profane Ascension will be completed.

I WILL BECOME THE VAMPIRE ASCENDANT.

Ritual of Profane Ascension…where had she seen that phrase before? Octavia goes back to Tav’s journal, flipping through until she sees those words again.

Today, I got a better look at his back.

He's got a circular scar with Infernal written all around. When I saw it the morning after the party with the tieflings, he said it was poetry, but he didn't know that I know Infernal. I was hesitant to tell him what it really was, but something told me to keep being honest.

When I asked him where he got it, he told me it was a gift from his old master, Cazador. I explained to him that I believed it was a binding glyph, Cazador was planning something and whatever it is, it seems he needs the missing piece that I have in my party.

My suspicions were proven correct when we met up with the devil after finishing the Gauntlet of Shar and killing the Orthon.

He told us about this Rite of Profane Ascension. How Cazador needs 7 of his spawn to sacrifice along with many others to make himself into some kind of super vampire that can walk in the sun, go into homes without being invited, all those things that go along with being a vampire….

I'm not so sure about it though. Raphael explained that the soul of the Ascendant would be lost, and he would be a shell of his former self.

I don't know if I could go through with it. Killing all those people? It seems like such a big decision to make, so permanent and serious. We had a group meeting after everyone cleaned up and had dinner. Karlach and Wyll were adamantly against it. They can't justify all that loss for one person to benefit.

Gale and Shadow had more rational arguments, they both had ambitions to be greater than they were through their own rites. A seemed to listen to Shadow over Gale, but ultimately it was Lae’zel that convinced him otherwise.

She told him how all she wanted was to serve her Queen, but after seeing everything we have, she realized that she can't keep chasing the shadow of a lie. Sometimes, we have things we want, and we find that to achieve them, we would lose all of ourselves. If that was the case, what was he chasing after? If he wanted freedom, he's already free.

I think that was what finally opened Star’s eyes.

Star??

“Fuck me.” Octavia can feel the color drain out of her face. She looks around the floor at all the books that were surrounding her. She picks up the sketchbook and keeps looking through.

She noticed that every so often, there are pages ripped out. As if someone tore them up in a fit of rage. When she reaches the page with the eyes, she sees a little doodle of a star beside each one.

Octavia can't help the trembling in her hands, there's been this creeping suspicion inside her for a few weeks now.

The enchantment Gale broke, the log book Astarion gave her, the way he described his lost love seeming like they had been Unburdened and now all this? The clues are becoming glaringly obvious to her, but, it can't be….can it?

Her heart is thundering inside her chest as she keeps going through the pages of the sketchbook, more torn pages, drawings of flowers, and finally near the end of the book, two full pages of the binding glyph that Tav had described.

Three circles, almost like a bullseye, surrounded by Infernal symbols. The scarring looked deep and painful. Octavia’s mind races remembering how Astarion winced and seemed to not want her to touch him there.

Octavia’s eyes survey the page and her breath is ripped out from her lungs when she sees a profile drawing of Astarion looking her right back in the face. She can feel the tears well up behind her eyes, her entire life she had been told about this grand adventure, this amazing thing that her great grandmother had done for the city she loved.

There's almost double the amount of writings speaking all about a seventh spawn. It used a code for their abuses and names but I was one set of entries that surpassed all others in her eyes.

Octavia swallows, she grabs the red leather book one more time, she opens the book towards the end, as soon as she sees his name, it all comes crashing down on her.

I have dispatched the brood. They will find him and bring him home. And when they do, I will make him scream for this.

Their tale was fanciful, but they believe it to be true. Astarion, standing in the sun’s light? Willing and able to disobey me? Inconceivable.

My spawns fail me. Astarion eludes me. I WILL HAVE MY DUE.

Octavia’s blood runs cold.

There it was, hidden in plain sight this whole time. Astarion is everything that she has been searching for. He's the one who was there, the one who was in the paintings, the one who Tav forgot. All the evidence was clear, and now seeing his name in this journal that she barely bothered to look at back home…

Home.

Oh gods, how was she going to be able to look Astarion in the face now?

The only thing that made her doubt all of this was his back. She hadn’t seen it yet. She dreaded having to ask to see it, what would she say? How would he react? She presses her head up against the footboard of her bed, closing her eyes tightly.

Octavia's heart shattered as she sat clutching her knees tightly to her chest. The room grew smaller and the air around her was stifling and thick. Between the sobs, she tried to catch her breath, trying to stop the room from spinning, holding on to her legs, anything to ground her.

But what was left to stand on? Everything she knew up to this moment had been a giant mystery until now, shrouded in a decades-long secret. Locked away behind paintings and books, the things that once gave her comfort, that now sat scattered about her felt tainted.

She shoved them away, call it anger, frustration, fear, it all blurred together now. The floor felt like shifting sand, like it would give way at any moment sucking her down. Hiding her, like the other 7000, like his siblings like him...HIM.

Did he know? Did he know about her relationship to Tav? She had so many questions now and everything felt more and more uncertain. He loved Tav, and she had loved him that was for certain. Was he still in mourning, did he regret leaving Tav? Was she Tav's replacement?

Oh gods the room was spinning as Octavia lay down on the floor curled in on herself. She couldn't think that way, but she couldn't help it anymore. She no longer was thinking with a clear and rational head, instead, she let her emotions control her.

Binding her to the belief that Astarion once upon a time loved a woman so intimately, that she would never be able to fill that void. As sleep took her the last thought that plagued the visions within her mind was one that had read in the journal, something that Tav had penned so long ago.

Would Astarion ever leave Octavia like he had left her? And if he didn't would she ever be good enough for him to convince him to stay?

#bg3 #astarion #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 #astarion ancunin #bg3 astarion #astarion bg3 #fic: memories of us #bg3 fanfic #shit's getting real now y'all.

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howyouloveyourdragon · 1 year

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yandere rhaenyra x sorceress fem reader (light yandere not really dark preferably) headcanons or another format if you like. -reader can possibly have kids w/ her (which might help when rhaenyra is with laenor is you make her a sorceress from descended from old Valeryia so has the targaryen look & later she can be the one to get pregnant if wanted) -she could also be a dragon rider at one point -viscerys may even love her no matter what the hightowers say because she has magic from old valaryia (might give her more influence than the hightowers do) -meaning rhaenyra could stay in the keep. - laenor stays or you make them get with daemon (or they get together privately if you want to keep laena alive cause the reader can save her)

- reader even be able to save jeoffry I'm going to stop with my ideas as they may go on and on, sorry this was so long I got carried away (I or someone else, or you if you want may be able to turn this into a full on story one day)! Some side platonic yandere shorts could be made from this

hey lovie! so happy to receive this request it was very fun to write :) <3 i would be happy to write more detail in a fic but unfortunately i couldn't go too in depth on this current post but if i do write one up i will tag you :)

pronouns: she/her warnings: both sfw and nsfw sections

SFW

now as a blueprint i'm going to go through a little thought process of reader & rhaenyra

i went down the route of reader keeping majority to Valyrian lore

and i think in this case Rhaenyra would be more of an obsessing yandere

lets say that reader is a descendant of Valyrian blood, perhaps her family escaped The Doom because they foresaw it, perhaps later aligning with Aegon I as he conquered Westeros so long as he kept their family a secret and so he ensured both their safety and their stay under his rule

however things sour after he has passed and they flee

they become a mere rumour and legend which King Viserys ends up telling to his children with fervent delight, dreaming of the day they might return

Rhaenyra drinks this up not only because it is intriguing but also because the beautiful artwork he shows to her look magnificent, fire encircling them and blood locking their promises

she will have pretended as a little girl to be one of these sorcerers, twirling with her mother in patterns befitting ceremonies and copying their olden styles

however as she gets older she pretends to forget the mysterious sorcerers and instead focuses on maintaining her title as heir, demanding the same respect she is sure her ancestors' dear allies must have

and yet one night, when she is tending to her courtly duties, she hears the most humorous little rumour

that there is a witch among the grounds, they whisper

and then it is brought up at a council meeting and her blood heats, a gasp drawing from her mouth in match with the Queen's

they both share a glance, recalling the games they had played as children before the pattering of feet

they expect to see a fearful lamb pleading for sanctuary but instead they find you

beautiful, regal you

Rhaenyra thinks you look more a Queen than either of them and she stands in respect, shocking the court

the men around you gape but you simply smirk in approval "Your grace," You greet, only holding contact with her as you curtsy only so slightly

Alicent coughs and stands also, determined to maintain composure

you explain that you have been orphaned and bring forth the written promise of Aegon I to care for your little family

Alicent requests proof with a concerned stiff expression and you gladly provide

with the flick of your wrist you summon a dragonglass candle from the skirt of your dress and stare deep into the spot in which a wick should be placed

in a flash it alights and broadens before your eyes

gasps enrapture but again you snap your sights on Rhaenyra and only Rhaenyra

she gives the barest of nod "we...hope you enjoy the comforts of court." she merely says and instructs her own personal guard to escort you to the guest chambers closest to her own

she can't get the image of your self-assured expression out of her mind

you are utterly bewitching with your snowy hair and tussled skirts

her sights linger on the ankle that peaks through as you hike up your said skirts

Alicent clears her throat and gives a pointed stare but it takes all of Rhaenyra's self control to settle herself back in her chair but everyone at the table share wary glances

she doesn't see you again until late the next day, requesting your presence for dinner and conveniently forgetting that her husband will be off for a hunt with his...dear friend

excitement shoots through her in powered waves

however she is disappointed to learn that her father too has requested your presence and her family have decided upon a collective dinner so that they may all meet the curious sorceress

Viserys is instantly engaging conversation with you the moment you sit down and before that, greets you in a warm embrace

he is a curious man who knows you too must carry the stories of your ancestors and he is eager to learn

for most of the evening Rhaenyra watches in curiosity, watching how your hair sways and your angelic features resemble her most ardent dreams

she has to restrain herself, grip tightening on her fork

it's that night that she makes her intentions clear to you and she's relieved to see your acceptance

Rhaenyra Targaryen is not one to hide her emotions nor her desires

your relationship is turned into a powerful storm of heat and danger, Otto's eyes narrowing everytime you enter a room

he proclaims you as a most unholy being and one to be banished which Viserys does not take kindly too

instead he is sent far away and Alicent is brought to the highest frustration as you attend almost every family outing or event with Rhaenyra proud at your side in the space her husband used to occupy

if anyone even slightly threatens or questions your presence at court she will be quick to scold and imprison them

going so far as to threaten their head

it's late in your coupling that you whisper sweet words in her ears, describing the imagery of her father's crown atop her head and a child born of you both

she knows all of your family's hidden secrets by now and while she and Laenor have not been graced with an heir by the Gods, you offer both a dream and solution

instead of accepting your offer of fertility in regards to her husband, she tucks back your hair and caresses your face

her lips dip down on yours and then breathes into your ear three sweet word "I want yours," she slips her kisses down your neck and presses your palm to her soft stomach

once the babe is born it doesn't matter whose dominant genes he inherits because with a gentle stroke of his hair it can turn as pale as winter snow

some may still question the child's true parentage considering the early birth and supposed consummation's circumstances do not quite align

but it matters not for your future Queen is determined to instil the confidence of a monarch

where Rhaenyra's tendencies come in I think she could become very smothering and clingy, sticking to you every possible moment that she is able

i could see this being a big relief for both Viserys and Laenor

Viserys' line will be continued and his daughter is happy, he wants to preserve this happiness, if you did request to return to your original home or to wander elsewhere i could see him suddenly developing a 'very important' project that he needs your assistance with

i think Laenor would also attempt to keep you close with his wife

i think i could picture Rhaenyra tricking you into a traditional Valyrian wedding or at least attempting to without explaining the possible repercussions of this

she's impulsive and devoted to you, nothing is out of her sphere of protection

her presence engulfs you with sweet words and soft promises

in this au i could imagine a much happier Rhaenyra in all aspects but it also means giving her the daughter she has always wished for

even more, she adores the fact that you are beside her while whichever one of you births the beautiful darlings with hair so regal and beauty gifted from you

NSFW

she's all too eager to pleasure you

you are the most magnificent beautiful and powerful being she has ever witnessed and she want to show you in every lewd and respectable way she can imagine

her most ardent desire however is the promise you whisper against her soft thighs, speaking of golden crowns and forsaking your duties in favour of delighting your Queen

her favourite though is when you sink your fingers between her lower lips and glide your tongue along her slick

the way your nails tickle her thighs and slide up to pebble her nipples and playing with those sensitive buds

she likes to let go with you

it's freeing to be finally enact upon the fantasies of her teenhood

she says often and plays with the words of you bewitching her, it sends a delightful shiver down her spine

tags: @gracielikegrapes

Hotd Taglist: (bold and italics means you need to check your settings, it didn't work)

@wrendermedone @hopelesswritergall @blackdreamspeaks @its-actually-minicika @gettheetoanunneryimmediatly

#rhaenyra targaryen x fem!reader #rhaenyra targaryen #rhaenyra x reader #rhaenyra targaryen x reader #hotd x reader #rhaenyra targaryen x reader headcanons #rhaenyra targaryen headcanons #rhaenyra targaryen x sorceress!reader #rhaenyra targaryen x valyrian reader #rhaenyra targaryen imagine #request #requests #ask #asks #sorceress reader #sorceress reader x rhaenyra

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