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mommyofkittens · 3 months

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A Court of Fallen Heroes - Chapter 8: Jane Doe

𓆩✴𓆪

" So, do we have a deal? " Impatience. Impatience was written all over King Draegan's voice, like a child ready to receive his Christmas present. " As you can see, our lands are really going to waste. There's almost nothing left to save. Our fields are barren, our rivers are poisoned by irreparable amounts of waste, our birthrate has plummeted and our workforce has dwindled alarmingly. We're no longer a threat, if that's what's stopping you from making a decision. "

I look at the copper-coloured ornament that protects his toes and think of all the poverty he described. Those perfect boots, cleaned by the hands of a man whose salary wasn't even enough to feed himself and his children.

Sell all your gold to those who need it, save the nation from poverty, do something to prevent it, not increase it, you fools!

I was expecting Eris to say something similar to what I was thinking, I wanted him to be a good character in this situation, to finally fight for this cause, but I knew there was more to it than a simple gesture of kindness between continents.

" The best I can do for now is to send someone to help you with the water, it would be a first step towards restoring the wells and rivers. " The redhead steps sideways, blocking the bed with his tall body. " My father will be happy to help you. I believe there's still hope between us, the new generation of rulers. "

I press my face to the ground, trying to catch a glimpse of the man who made Aoife pregnant. The tassels caught by the guild hung low, blocking most of my view. I could barely see up to their knees.

" It would be an immeasurable honour to have High Lord Beron in the palace. He and I have shared some grand ideas for the future of our lands, for the best use of the consumable races that seem to multiply every day. " I grimace, feeling the dark, malicious smile spread across Draegan's pleasant features. " And with the scientist your father sent me, it would be much easier to test the limits of our horizons. Wouldn't it, Lord Vanserra? "

A ball of thorns blossoms in my stomach, accentuating the guilt, feeding my anger. I bite my inner cheek, tasting blood on my tongue. What did he mean by 'consumable races'? What's the horizon that both Draegan and Beron aspire to? I struggle under the bed, waiting impatiently for Eris's answer, hoping he wasn't involved in this plan, wishing he was faking it.

Eris's silence is loud. He was caught on the wrong foot. Is what I needed for him: let him be shocked by their own wickedness. He remains near the edge of the bed, forgetting that he had to follow Draegan inside the antechamber.

" Excuse me, yes, it would be. " Eris takes a deep breath, steadying himself. " I was just thinking about the stability of Prythian. Politics have gone mad lately, my father is buried under all the paperwork and I believe he will not be able to honour any of your invitations to dinner. "

Draegan's laughter chills my blood more than the icy black marble. " I've heard about it too. A friend of mine from Vallahan informed me about all the damage. We are all suffering, right? Why not suffer together, strengthen each other's weakness. "

" But curiosity gets the best of me: what do you mean by consumable races? "

" Ah... " The King's black boots, perfectly fitted to his muscular calves, turn towards Eris. " It's just something I mentioned to your father on his last visit. It's a delicate subject, I can't discuss it with you between so many hungry ears. I'll tell you when the time is right. And the soldiers of your court have done a wonderful job with the new recruits to our army. "

Eris takes a few cautious steps towards the small wooden table where I left the white linen sheets. He seemed to be looking out over the balcony at the vast gothic empire, as if realising the damage already done. " And the soldiers... Of course. "

His tone was even, cold, an unmistakable tension in his words, as if he had been slapped across the face several times in the space of ten minutes: his father, the cursed friendship between their kingdoms, all the help Beron was sending behind his back. These soldiers could be seen as a sign of betrayal to Prythian and their shared interest in these consumable races was a bad omen, too.

As far as I remember, the Autumn Court was to the east, on the outer side of the continent. It probably wouldn't be much of a blow to the continent, given its external position. The only problem is that, with the right help, they could easily split Prythian in two, all they needed to do was wipe out the weaker surrounding courts. At the moment, that weak link was the Spring Court, which, with few inhabitants and a seriously ill ruler, would be just the place. And most importantly, it was on the border with the people they wanted to enslave.

Something is boiling in my chest, sour and malicious, threatening to consume me completely: injustice and weakness. Two feelings I'd become familiar with, but still not used to. This wasn't about the unfairness of my university, about working my ass off just to get the same grades as another kid who didn't work half as hard as I did. No, this was worse, it was about people's lives, innocent people who didn't even seem to know what was about to happen to them.

I try to steady my breath as best I can, afraid that his sharp hearing might catch me sneaking inside his bedroom. It was difficult to breathe properly anyway, due to the fact that I was lying on my stomach with my weight crushing my lungs.

" You mentioned earlier that... we were expecting guests? " Eris asked carelessly, strolling noisily into the waves of grey light pouring over the open balcony. Waves of dust rose into the air, whirling seductively. I place my hand over my nose and mouth, hoping to prevent any of those particles to activate my allergies.

" Are you afraid of being seen here? " There was something strange in his tone, as if he expected Eris to betray him in any moment.

"Under no circumstances. My business is mine alone and no one has the right to accuse me of anything. I don't really give a flying fuck about other people's opinions, Draegan. I'm just curious who I'm going to meet tonight. An Illyrian, then? "

I don't dare move closer to the edge of the bed, to watch the exchange of glances that pierce the silence of the room. Clinging to the frozen floor with my entire body, I felt my heart beat wildly, accelerating at the mention of the winged man. If it was someone I knew, was there any chance of talking to him? Could I catch him alone?

Draegan chuckles slightly and I hear him bang his fist on the door the way I died earlier. The key doesn't fall as it should and I swallow dryly as he bangs another fist, waiting for the familiar clang of metal, "Very peculiar. "

His brief comment makes my mouth drool and the bile rises in my throat, bringing with it a bitter taste.

" Is something wrong? " Eris pauses with his heels turned towards me, summoning his nonchalant demeanour.

" You didn't happen to notice if anyone was here before us, did you? " His tone changes completely in the blink of an eye, his words flowing through his teeth, full of violence and tension.

" Perhaps one of your maids? She forgot these old sheets as well. " The redhead sugests warily, feeling the wave of negative energy coming from Draegan.

" Hmpf... As for you question... " He abruptly changes the subject, stopping on command his other personality from rising to the surface. " I have no clue, either. The letter I received doesn't mention a certain name. A precaution for highway robbers. I guess the both of us we'll be just as surprised. "

Draegan steps into the antechamber, then seems to signal Eris to follow him, because after a few seconds, the door closes behind them, leaving me alone under the bed.

This is the time to get out of here and run for my life. I follow the corridor back to the central room, where most of the servants leave their clothes and bags and take on their servant personas. Rivers of words flow through my mind, trying to make connections, to link what I learned to what I already knew from the books. One of my problems was that the next book in the series wasn't written yet, so I had not idea if the Autumn Court would really betray Prythian, and secondly, It didn't matter what the book said, I changed the course of events. From now on, it depended on the choices everyone was going to make, including me. Our fate was sealed.

I felt blood on the tip of my tongue. My old habit of bitting my lips came rushing back. I found the map and lost it in less than ten minutes. I had to get it back, and that meant following Eris closely, which also meant getting too close to Draegan.

It wasn't a secret that I was terrified of these people, of fae and their dumb ways. Draegan and his ill mind was one of my greatest fears, for now, and not just because of his slippery fingers and overly suggestive looks, but apparently he was smarter than he seemed. I'd rather be trapped undergroung and suffocate than feel this man close to me, touching me.

For this reason only, Aoife was a hero. She endured too much and only because she needed those money for her family. Could I ever reach this level of devotion?

My fears weren't even my main problem, Eris Vanserra was. I can't begin to comprehend what has gotten into him, what sort of devil possessed him to help me. I knew he wasn't totally evil, like some people around here liked to portray him, but he wasn't good either. He went to great lengths to hide me, to conceal the scent I left on the objects I touched. I knew faes where michievous, their help was never to be taken for granted. Was I prepared to offer him what he wanted?

Failure after failure, I couldn't even find out who the winged visitor was. There was a clear antipathy between the kingdoms, even before Prythian gutted the former king. This meeting would not end well.

I hide my hands between my skirt and make my way through the servants. Niven and I had certain hours when we could sneak in here, when most of the servants would go up and prepare the main room for the upcoming guests.

I do my best to arrange napkins and to clean their silverware, waiting for the clock tower to ring three times to announce lunchtime. A breeze of fresh grass and sunflowers makes me aware of the presence next to me.

" Have you found anything? " Niven's whisper is so low, that I can barely grasp the sentence through my stupid hat.

I nod, slowly raising my head to see if there are more people around. " There's a detailed map in Draegan's antechambers. " I point my finger at the brunette before she has a chance to scold me for going into the king's wing. " But there's another problem that has arisen. I'm trying to solve that as well. "

" Don't tell me you've been caught sneaking around his chambers! " Her doe eyes are wide open, black and dilated with shock. " Fuck... Did he?... "

" No! No... Don't worry, everything's under control. "My lie caused her eyebrows to touch slightly and if I didn't know her better, I would have known that she was scolding me with that look. " I have to meew with someone to get the map back, that's all. "

" Who caught you? "

I smack my lips together, tasting that bile from earlier still lingering between my teeth. " Eris Vanserra. "

A napkin flows to the stone floor, slipping from Niven's gloved hands. The tension in her body makes her tremble slightly and I see her swallow. " I'll go after the map. "

I can't hide the surprise written all over my forehead and eyebrows, the only visible parts of my face. " No. Never in a million years. Your familly has already done their part. I'll be the one to do the nasty things from now on. "

" You're not a spare part of this mission. " Niven bites back, glaring at me furiously. " You can't put yourself in any danger! "

" I beg your pardon? If anyone has to come out of this hurt or dead, it's me. You have to keep your family under their radar and safe. "

" Under their what? " Niven asks skeptically and for a moment i forget that we're not in my old world, where a ' radar ' was a common knowledge.

" Under their curious eyes. I lost the map, I'll get it back. " I declare, throwing the silverware back in their baskets.

Niven rolls her eyes and catches my shoulders between her rather strong palms. " If you die somewhere along the way, we're doomed. You need to get that through your head, Cyan. You die, we all die. Finished. You can't throw yourself around, hoping it'll work out in the end. You must stay alive untill the end. "

Good God. How do I talk her down of this bullshit?

" Look, Eris saw me in those rooms, he knows me, he will only give me the map. Not you, not anyone else. Let me fetch it and then you can do your part of the job. I won't interfere... "

I can see her thinking deeply, her eyes moving frantically around the stone chamber, focusing on every small detail of this cold room. Her dark lashes were so long that they were shielding almost completely her eyesight, resting beautifully on her cheeks.

" Very well. Do what you know you need to do, but it's the last time. "

I smile behind my mask and without thinking if anyone could see us, I throw my arms around her, embracing her warmth and the feeling of familiarity. She wanted to carry my burden, but she had her own and for that I could only love her more than I already did.

It hit me just then how deeply I was about to miss this woman, my sould sister.

𓆩✴𓆪

Author's PoV

' The Three Dead Kings are waiting for their Daughter. '

Somehow, Elain had managed to creep back into his mind, like a persistent trickle of water carving a path through a rock. She hadn't done it on purpose, the lone fae had been tending to her garden all morning: watering, digging holes, moving flowers from place to place. She hadn't sought the attention of anyone in particular, nor had she struck up a conversation with any of them, as if her noisy mind was enough to seek refuge in the peace of her safe space.

And the winged man, like any respectable spy around town, was content to watch over her from the window of his room, satisfying his need to have her from afar. Even if he was only making a fool of himself, putting salt on a wound he never knew he had.

In the light of recent events, Azriel understood why she was acting more strangely than before, and that left him with a bruised ego. In the small remnant of hope he had so carefully guarded, the Shadowsinger thought that perhaps, deep down, she was suffering from his dangerous journey, that perhaps she was plagued by worry and dark thoughts, for him, for his safety.

But he was a selfish prick, utterly blinded by the need to project his desire for belonging onto someone else.

Azriel huffed from under his black hood, disgusted with himself. If there was one thing he hated more than anything else in the world, it was begging someone for attention. After all, that's what he did for eleven years, trying in vain to win his father's affection and what did he received? A dark, cold cell, under a house full of happy laughs. He despised that with all of his wicked, hollow heart and funny enough, that's what he always found himself doing: begging to eat trash.

Elain's strange behaviour was later explained: her gifted power demanded to be let out. She kept it under control until she lost her ability to keep it in check. It seems that for both sisters the benefits of becoming Fae came at the cost of less desirable things.

The sun's head slowly peeked out from behind the Night Court's sacred mountain as he left his chambers. Azriel glanced back many times, his weary eyes resting on the sleeping city he used to call ' home '. Lately, he wasn't sure if ' home ' was Velaris anymore, ravished by the feeling of not belonging, of missing something he longed for for nearly three hundred years. He understood the message his body was sending: he would rather be away from the House of Wind than with his family.

He'd left before six in the morning, having been awake from his sinful thoughts since four. He had time to warm up his muscles in the ring for half an hour, then cleaned up and got something to eat. Azriel never said goodbye to anyone, he never did that before a mission. It was what motivated him to keep coming back.

Besides, there was no way he could: Cassian was fast asleep, tired of his futile attempts to get Nesta to train and their bickering. Rhys had given him the task of extracting information from Vassa, Jurian and Lucien, which somewhat compensated for the fact that Azriel was now busy with something else. Even Nesta wasn't awake at those hours, his hearing was far too fine and his brave shadow, who often chose to be his companion through sleepless nights, knew everything that went on in the corridors. So the reason the older sister slept late was the delicious wine she stole from Rhysand.

Two days had passed since he landed in the vast and desolate western continent, two days of hopeless searching, of questions with no answers. The nights weren't any better. He camped in the woods, with no fire to warm his flesh, only his shadows as friends to watch his back. It was good when he could steal thirty minutes of sleep. It was even better when he didn't have that tingling sensation that he was being watched when the night fell. He was thankful that the amber perfume vanished. Amren was right when she told him it will pass. But the one who followed him closely through both cities he visited was another presence, someone who smelled of berries.

Azriel ignored it. He wasn't the one to do that with his problems, but he already had too much on his plate. This seemingly deserted land, with all its goods left to rot, was already a threat to his life.

The words from Elain's vision were on a loop in his head, keeping him aware, trying to focus on solving that riddle. Amren was contacted in an instance, she was the only one with enough knowledge on this obscure spectrum. After all, she was the one who discovered the fallen woman.

Squeezing his wings tighter around him, Azriel slipped through the crowded markeplace of Nyzim, the second vilage on his list. He was disgusted every time his massive wing touched another civilian, feeling their filthy clothes brush against the thick membrane. The man tried to think of them as harmless people who hadn't had the good fortune to wash often, due to the lack of water in this place or the lack of hygiene that seemed to be a basic rule here. He tried his best to watch over them with patience and serenity, but it was almost impossible when all he got in return were frowns and dirty looks.

He'd grown accustomed to the more than shocked, even horrified, stares of the surrounding humans. Still, he thanked himself for the view, and enjoyed the fact that all the people ran away from him, making room for him between the shabby stalls. It was better for his wings.

With the hood of his cloak pulled low over his piercing eyes, he watched every movement without having the need to turn his head. His shadows waited meekly on his round shoulders, also hidden beneath the black cloak that covered his Illyrian costume and weapons.

There was no need to ask questions, not always. His loyal companions would bring him all the information he needed, both wanted and unwanted, without him making too many moves that would attract more attention. The squinting looks he received were not uncommon, nor were the mean whispers his braver shadow provided him, coiled in his ear like a domesticated snake.

Azriel was used to being insulted and treated inhumanely since childhood, so he knew how to fend off all these unspoken attacks, shutting himself behind an iron, impenetrable mask.

His far too long activity in the field had made him a calculated, well-behaved and, above all, rational man. So the fact that Azriel already passed through two villages without anyone noticing anything out of the ordinary was an expected and already digested knowledge. Nothing surprised him. Azriel also suspected that the palace was already announced by the winged silhouette that haunted the villages around the kingdom and that made him stand stiff as a bow, ready for any approach from the new rulers of the continent.

Azriel shifts his gaze to the village priest, silently directing his shadows at the old man's temples. The Shadowsinger could sense him from a few metres away, even without the aid of his dark tongues. He noticed his slippery hands, his red nose and the rhythmic ticking of his head: a chronic drinker who had suffered a heart attack. He also seemed to love the villagers' money more than his children, who lay barefoot and dirty around him.

The shadow came back unnoticed, rippling faintly in the damp atmosphere. Azriel closed his eyes for a moment, rubbing the base of his nose. No one sensed a change in time, no one noticed a woman who didn't belong, no one slept more than usual on any given night, and no one smelled the haunting scent of amber.

The other day, he sat for hours on several rooftops, enveloped in total darkness, listening, analysing, sending several shadows around the place, inside these people's houses, intruding their privacy, searching under every rock, only to find nothing. He realised soon after that this was not the place he was looking for.

All the women looked the same: pale, hungry and dirty. He even read statistics about the female population of Hybern, looking for a pattern to help him distinguish the one he was looking for from the rest. They all had brunette features: dark-haired, tall and well formed enough to carry the hard work of the field, brown or black eyes and their foreheads wrinkled with worry. Many couldn't read or speak, all had two or three children behind them, and when Azriel tried to read their minds, they seemed just as confused and burdened by their daily lives. His attention was heightened when he spotted a rare blonde, and watched her with interest, but soon realised that her energetic imprint was deeply rooted in this place.

It was harder than he expected.

Amren tried several solutions to the problem of finding the woman. She searched hard for spells and even insisted on bringing Nesta to help them, relying on her connection to the Cauldron. To no avail, for they had absolutely nothing that belonged to the stranger, and since she was apparently not yet 'formed', as Amren had put it, they could not track her at all. She could be in the depths of Hel itself, they wouldn't know, and they couldn't help her.

For once, luck had somehow smiled upon them. When Elain appeared the other day, at exactly seven in the morning, hands raised above her head as if waiting for a ray of sunshine to slip through her slender fingers, everyone seemed to be biting their tongues. Her eyes were filled with a bright white smoke and her face was set in a grimace of satisfaction. It was as much relieving as it was terrifying. Her voice had taken on that mystical hue as she pronounced the syllables, thickening a few octaves and capturing a shuddering effect on all who wittnesed the event. Even his shadows went mad, swirling around him like a dizzy vortex.

" When the remaining ruins bathe in her blood and the Onix Oasis cries out her name, the earth's womb will open and darkness will flow. She leaves with a promise, returning with a crown carved from the ancient bones of her fathers. There are three dead kings waiting for their daughter. "

Azriel was there to catch her when she collapsed, exhausted of her own strength, touching her almost tenderly on her cold, supine cheeks, silently encouraging her. Rhys was the first to prick his mind, waking him from his reverie. He felt as if someone had thrown cold water on him.

This prophecy was bigger than the ones she had uttered before, broader, more difficult. Everyone in the room knew what it was about, or rather who it was about: the Comet Woman. Amren almost danced with joy, glad to have something new to decipher, like a dog with a bone, running to find everything she could while the sentence was still fresh.

The dreary weather in Hybern did nothing to improve his low morale.He couldn't understand how people could live in such conditions, without natural sunlight, without colourful, ripened fruit. Azriel slipped nimbly through a group of men, tempted to grab an apple from a blind woman's stall. He reached for his silver coins and took three between his gloved fingers, more than necessary, and threw them on the woman's counter, so that she could hear the clink of each coin.

" It's too much. " She mutters hoarsely, seeming to watch him very closely with her strange, purple, parasitic pupils. " The guards will come and collect them if I make more than what my shop has to offer. "

Azriel considered the old woman for a while, his whiskey-like eyes boring into those of the fourth-aged lady. A strange smell rose to his nose, old and pungent, of medicine and strange potions. Berries, he sensed, but it seemed highly unlikely that a sixty something woman could follow him through the forest. Her wavy white hair was covered by a wool hat and she had several layers of blankets and petticoats folded on her back.

" If they come, tell them that I stole from you. They'll be too busy coming after a thief and you can take some of your food back home. "

" Then be a good boy and cover me. " The old woman gave him a wry smile and took the money from the counter, stuffing some of her vegetables back inside her rusty bag.

Azriel used his magic to darken their position, creating a nice glamour for those around. " Go now, and keep your pets close, there's something bad waiting at the end of your journey. "

The man didn't have time to process as some children's cries pierced his sensitive ears, causing him to nod in the direction of the sounds. He turned back to the mysterious woman, trying to get more information from her, but the place where she stood only moments ago, behind the stall, was now empty.

Azriel clenched his fists, calling upon every rational cell of his body. The shadows hidden beneath his travelling robes murmured, equally dazed, unable to sense the old woman's aura. The situation was uncomfortable for a spy, as if he were talking to a ghost. But it was impossible, the conversation had taken place, all her vegetables and fruit lay untouched in baskets, but the furs and money were gone, as was the smell of dead leaves and berries.

Maybe she was the one following him, after all.

The people around eyed him. Azriel felt like an animal in a cage. An imaginary circle formed around him, like a shield, which everyone tactically avoided, not wanting to challenge him.

" Have you seen the woman sitting here? " Azriel directed a question towards the peasant sitting right across him.

The man he was addressing quickly went from shock to horror and backed away a little. With outstretched hands he reached for a knife hidden under the counter and whispered, " No one was ever here, sir. "

Azriel looked shaken and took a few minutes to recalibrate. Since the comet had fallen, the universe seemed even more enraged against Azriel's being, as if what he had to endure was not enough. He nodded resignedly, trying to maintain an outward calm. How did she vanish into thin air? He couldn't ever trace her using her stench.

There were few things that stretched his patience to the limit, and being taken for a fool was one of them. He had no idea who the old woman was or what she was trying to tell him. Maybe she was a spy for the kingdom, maybe she was a witch, or maybe she was just a simple woman trying to play a trick on a man who had shown her a mediocre amount of kindness. That seemed to be the pattern in these places.

He hurried his pace, eager to escape this damned village as quickly as possible. This place was forgotten by the saints.

Next on his list was Thaibar, a few kilometres to the east, a distance he quickly decided to cover on foot, hoping that he might still find something interesting, something that would lead him to the woman.

Amren mentioned that the place where the comet struck should be turned into a monument of some kind, from which ancient magic would flow. It could be anything: a temple, an oasis, a hole, anything energetically charged to the brim. Azriel relied on his senses to locate the place, but nothing of this magnitude had appeared. Surely the one who had fallen was no longer there, if she was conscious and able to walk. Even though they had speculated that time had looped around her to help her survive, her unharmedness was not a certainty.

Azriel crossed the dense forest that separated Nizym from Thaibar without incident, allowing his shadows to spread freely between the slender trunks of the trees. He enjoyed the oppressive silence that hung over the thin branches, using this hour of travel as a kind of mini-vacation before facing the outside world. A few metres to the right lay a vast and barren plain, as if the earth had been cursed so that no fruit would live long in this area.

He came to a halt and frowned, feeling like there was something amiss with that meadow. There was something... peculiar in the air, as if the dust particles were full of their own life, floating into those little rays of sunshine, bathing in that small, warm glow. Azriel could hear it, buzzing like a million bees in the distance, like a song hummed by the birds. The Shadowsinger was suddenly overcome with serenity, his companions danced around him, thrilled by the same mute music. But there was nothing on that field, only a lonely dogwood tree marking the middle of the land.

Azriel knew in that second that this was the place he was looking for, Thaibar.

He became slightly optimistic, bewitched by that intense feeling.

The trees, no matter how many they were, were thin and dry inside, with few leaves hanging almost withered from the branches. He removed his hood for a few seconds, letting his brunette hair fall loosely on his forehead and bravely looked around. Listening carefully, he came to the interesting conclusion that this forest was home to an impressive number of animals: bears, wolves, foxes, squirrels, including snakes, as if they had all been attracted by something.

Azriel became interested in this place, sending a silent question to his shadows that now stretched across the forest, hidden in every dark corner. One thousand three hundred species of animals had left their hibernation and come here almost a month ago. A time that coincided perfectly with the Summer Solstice and the fall of the comet. Most of these wild animals were female.

However, they had not attacked, killed or caused any harm to each other, living in total harmony. Perhaps even the people of the village were unaware of the danger that lurked in the forest. Maybe they had just gathered here to watch, to... protect?

As he approached the edge of the forest, Azriel noticed the dense mixture of smells in this place. Nearly a hundred people had gathered here, repeatedly. The yellowed grass was stuck to the wet ground, trampled as if someone had been dancing here for hours. In the centre were the logs of a campfire, with many more improvised chairs and to the left was a thick tree trunk, cut in two and placed in the shape of a table.

He walked around a few times, looking at the area where the party had been held, noting in his mind that it had been held near the edge of the forest, avoiding the dense part of the woods as if they knew it was not a safe place at night. Azriel stopped, planting his heavy, muddy boots on the ground. The murmur of his shadows suddenly died in his ears, as if they felt the same thing as their master. He took a few steps back, careful not to tarnish what he felt.

Azriel felt the blow in his neck before it reached his lungs. He took a deep breath, sniffing again and again, trying to kick some ration into himself. He tried to convince his body that it was not true, that someone was still spying on him, tricking him, but there it was, that devilish, atrocious smell.

But instead, it was his brave shadow that admitted it: Green, green amber...

Those tongue made of darkness dissipated around him and took the form of a person, a woman, a few metres in front of him, small and faceless. He felt a pressure settle on his chest, heavy and poisonous, bringing Azriel's bad temper to the surface. He swallowed hard and spun around his shadows, as if to imprint on his retina the body of someone he had not yet met, of that someone who haunted him nights after nights. Only then, amidst the mixture of grass, flowers, jasmine and ashes, did he detect the distinct scent of amber. The perfume that held his nightmares on a leash, who ruled over his mind for far too long, this woman was the one who, for who knows what reason, had sneaked into his house and stolen from him: his knife and his sanity.

Azriel wanted them back.

The man could barely contain the hatred and contempt that was now rising in his chest, as if it would overtake any logical thoughts. This woman would be brought to justice, with the same cruelty with which she commanded over his restless nights.

As he left the place, he tried to unravel the traces of other people's scents one by one, to follow only the amber, like a mad dog on the hunt. The scent did not go very far, stopping at a more secluded farm on the crest of a hill. He glanced cautiously at the lone woman going about her work through the fence, quietly carrying several sacks of flour, unaware of Azriel's dangerous presence.

It's not her. One of the shadows spoke harshly, wrapping itself around his muscled forearm as if to stop him from slaughtering anyone on sight.

The truth was that the man's mind was drowning. Amber floated everywhere around the farm, like a shield, trying to protect the houses from any unknown, uninvited guest. He could see all the routes that woman had taken inside and outside the farm, which houses she entered and which stables she visited. Azriel watched the tall mare graze peacefully, black as night and shining like a lucky fish just caught from the river. His gaze was immediately drawn to her companion, a grey cat, thin and attentive to everything that moved around her, carefully watching everything that happened around the mare as if she were her protector.

A shiver ran down his spine as the small animal suddenly turned its questioning gaze on him, as if to ask him what he was doing in her territory.

What piqued his interest was the fact that both the mare and the cat were wrapped in the scent of amber and bergamot, as if they belonged to the one Azriel was looking for.

The Shadowsinger had too many thoughts in his head, he couldn't find any logic in any of them either, his mind too foggy and heavy. By the Mother, he was going to snap. This was where the woman in question lived, these people had brought her here and taken care of an unknown woman. But why? How much trust can you put in a stranger? It is not difficult to recognise a person who does not belong to the place, so how did this part of the story unfold? Azriel suspected it was much more than an act of kindness.

A muscle in his jaw twitched at the thought that maybe they weren't the only ones who knew about the woman's identity, what she was supposed to become and what powers she could gain. If that was the reason, it was clear who had already earned the individual's trust.

" Sir? " A soft voice addressed him, " Are you all right? What are you looking for? "

The woman who took care of the farm, who had been watching him from a few metres away, had noticed him sitting there, staring at her awkwardly. Her small face was elegant with determination written all over her delicate features, but she was too pale and rather ill-looking. The woman was about forty years old, she had a palpable tension in her forehead and her fingers were clenched, ready to strike if necessary. She was gifted with a subtle maternal air and a special gentleness, it felt like flowers could bloom only by her touch only. She didn't approve of his presence so close to her own home and was about to pull out her claws. Azriel appreciated her ferocity.

" I was wondering if you could show me where the palace is. " Azriel spoke in a steady tone, " I think I got a little lost on the way. "

The man knew he couldn't trick her, not when she was watching him like she was about to bit his head off if he made a wrong movement. Azriel bowed his head, trying to show her that he was no threat to her.

" I find it rather hard to miss it, with those... wings attached to your back you can spot it easily from a distance. " There was no fear in her tender eyes, only vigilance. Azriel looked at her for a long time, reading her from the inside to the outside, noticing the sorrow that had settled over her features, deepening the slight wrinkles, along with another feeling, helplesness. She looked him in the eyes and smiled with restraint as she pointed to the barren plains and some distant towers beyond. " But I'll endulge you, sir. You should also know that people around Thaibar are not fond of your kind, maybe you should watch your back. "

" It means you can understand why I can't use my wings to my liking. Arrows are hard to duck and even harder to get out. "

" My son is a good archer. "

" Do you have any other child good with bows and arrows? " Azriel dared to ask, sensing the warning in her tone.

" Three, actually, all very skilled in their own way. " The woman hapilly announced, ready to return in the safety of her garden.

" All yours, I supose... " The man made a simple guess, trying to find more about where the stranger could live.

" Born with blood and sweat. Mine. " She smiled, but that smile never touched her eyes completely. For Azriel was enough of a sign.

" Then I shouldn't keep you from your duties any longer, have a nice day, madam. "

The woman only bowed her head, then returned slowly inside her house. Azriel knew she was watching from her window.

Also, there was something else laced around her being, something he grew familiar sincer Elain became a fae. The same trace of magic linked them both, the same tormenting and sad air enveloped around them: a seer? Azriel raised his eyebrows in surprise, but it was the grey cat that surprised him most, scrutinising him with her yellow eyes. She stood inches away from his boots, sniffing him. Azriel could swear the animal was frowning as well.

The shadows deepend, trying to get closer to that strange cat that now started to circle him. Azriel ordered his companions to retreat, but that brave one came too close to the cat's round head and tugget at its sharp ear. The animal spat, surprised by the sudden attack and bared its claws.

Azriel chuckled, leaning down. " I'm so sorry for their behaviour, they're not used to meeting cats very often. " He tries to pet it, but to no avail, the cat was already running away, frightened by his shadows. " You should tell your master I'm coming for her. "

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westanthewaterman · 2 years

Text

Friends and Old Flames - 2/4

Characters: Damien, Actor!Mark, The DA

Pairings: Actor!MArk/District Attorney, Damien/District Attorney (unrequited)

Rating: SFW

Word count: 1500+

Summary: After their less than stellar visit with Mayor Damien, District Attorney goes to visit an old friend.

AO3 One Two (you’re here)

Iplier Manor was quiet. Too quiet. Normally, even at such a late hour, the staff could be heard bumbling about the house, cleaning the manor’s copious rooms, or prepping food for the next day. And Benjamin would be at the center of it all, staying up till the early hours of the morning, ensuring everything was in perfect order for when Marc started his day.

So when the District Attorney opens the front door to an eerily quiet mansion, a wave of uncertainty and worry washes over them.

“Marc?”

Their voice echoes through the halls as they step through the foyer, peeking around the corner into every room they pass.

“Marc? Benjamin?”

“In here.” It’s Marc’s voice.

They follow the sound of his voice to the lounge. Marc is sitting slumped on one of the large, ornate couches, dressed in a silk robe. He’s holding a glass of whiskey in one hand and his wedding ring in the other, turning it over in his fingers. When they enter the room, he slips it back onto his finger and gives them a small wave.

“It’s good to see you, old friend.”

The District Attorney sits down beside him. “Where are Benjamin and the rest of your staff?”

“I sent them all home for the weekend. I couldn’t stand all the noise.”

“Yes, well drowning your sorrows will do that.” They nod to the drink in his hand.

Marc laughs but they can tell it’s forced. His face is pale and dark shadows circle his eyes. There’s something in his gaze, something dark, that hadn’t been there the last time they’d seen each other and it sets the District Attorney on edge.

“I didn’t think you would come back.”

“Well, we still need to finish going over the settlement papers.”

“At this hour? Why’re you here? Something’s bothering you, my friend, I can tell.”

“I just saw Damien.”

“Ah. How is our dear mayor?”

“Fine.”

They spit the word out before they can help it and turn away to avoid his gaze. The District Attorney gestures to the decanter sitting on the table beside the couch.

“Do you mind?”

Marc shakes his head and they grab a spare glass from the tray and pour themselves two fingers’ worth of the dark liquid, downing the glass before pouring another.

“I take it your meeting with Damien didn’t go well. What happened with you two? I always figured you would end up together.”

They sigh and flop down next to him. “The night of the election, after the results had been called, we were celebrating…drinking. The next morning, I woke up in bed with him.”

“That’s good, isn't it?”

“He didn’t say anything, Marc. He wouldn’t even look at me and now anytime I try to bring it up he makes up some half-assed excuse and runs off.”

“I would’ve expected him to have a little more class.”

“It doesn’t matter. I should’ve known he would never feel the same; his heart belongs to the job, I think.”

Marc sets his drink down and wraps his arms around them, pulling the DA into a tight embrace. They melt into it, letting out a long sigh. It feels nice. It feels like coming home after being away for a long time.

When he pulls away, Marc smiles at them fondly and pats them on the shoulder.

“Damien has never been able to see what was right in front of him, always too focused on the bigger picture, for that, he’s a fool. Anyone would be lucky to have you. You’re kind and intelligent and very attractive.” He winks at them.

The District Attorney’s heart skips a beat and they turn away to hide the goofy smile trying to fight its way onto their face.

“Always such a sweet talker, Marc.”

“And don’t you forget it! It wasn’t just my devilishly good looks that me the start that I am.”

The two laugh and the DA shoves his shoulder playfully. Eventually, they grow somber. The District Attorney takes his hands in theirs.

“I’m sorry about everything that’s happened. It’s important to me that you know I would’ve told. I would never hide something like that from you.”

“I know, darling, you’ve always been good to me.” He squeezes their hands. “Sometimes I wonder what life would be like if I had fought harder for you.”

“W-What?”

“I was young and blinded by dreams of grandeur. I was so focused on my acting, I let you slip away. I shouldn't have. You were one of the best things that have ever happened to me and I lost you.”

“You never lost me, Marc. I’ve always been here. I would never have asked you to choose me over your career, I knew how much it means to you.”

“It shoulder never have been a choice between the two. I was just so stubborn and hungry for the spotlight. It’s you. It’s always been you. I knew it back then just as much as I know it now.”

The District Attorney pulls their hands free from his, turning away.

“Marc…that’s not true.”

“But it is. I knew it when we separated. I knew it when I asked her to marry me. I knew it the day I got married. I’ve always known.”

The DA stands with a shake of their head and turns towards the door. Marc reaches out and grabs their wrist gently, tugging them back into his arms. One of his hands rests on their waist and the other cups their chin, tilting their head up towards him. He presses their lips together and, for a moment, the District Attorney melts into it. Something like a small whisper echoes in the back of their mind, telling them that this is right, that this is how it should be.

However, the cold metal of his wedding ring against their skin brings them back to reality. The DA stiffens in Marc’s hold and pushes him away, taking a few steps back.

“Th-This isn’t right,” they say, voice shaky and out of breath, “you’re drunk, and…and heartbroken and not thinking clearly.”

“But I am. Things have so much clearer now that she’s gone.”

He takes a step forward and they take a step away, backing themself into the wall. Marc moves towards them until they’re chest to chest, their noses practically touching.

“This isn’t right.”

He cradles the side of their face. “Then why does it feel right? I know you feel the same, you can’t deny it.”

“It’s been years since we were together, Marc. We were practically kids back then; we’re different people now.”

“Maybe that’s a good thing.”

“You need time. Your divorce hasn’t even gone through yet. You’re technically still a married man and I’m acting as your lawyer in the divorce. Think of what other people might say.”

“Other people…or Damien?”

“That’s not-”

“You can’t think you still have a chance with him. He’s made it quite clear where he stands. Damien only cares about people that benefit him and you have nothing he wants, clearly.”

The sound of skin hitting skin fills the otherwise quiet room. Marc rubs his stinging cheek, but he doesn’t look angry, just amused. The District Attorney, however, is scowling, hands balled into fists.

“Just because you’re suffering doesn’t mean you need to drag everyone else down with you.”

“But I’m not, don’t you understand? I’m finally seeing things for what they are!” He wraps an arm around their waist and pulls them flush against his chest, ghosting his lips over theirs. “Can you honestly say that you don’t miss this, miss me?”

“I-”

“I love you, darling. I always have.”

The DA sags against him, suddenly overcome with exhaustion. His arm is a comforting weight around them. The voice in their head is telling them to give in, to let themself have what they really want and they can’t help but think maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad thing.

“Marc.”

“I know you want this because I know you, better than anyone else ever could.”

“People will talk.”

“Then let’s give them lots to talk about.”

He pulls them in for a kiss, this one much more passionate. His tongue traces their bottom lip before forcing itself between their lips, flooding their mouth with the taste of whiskey and something distinctly him. The DA grabs the front of his robe, pulling him as close as possible, feeling like they’ll fly away if they don’t. The world around them melts away until there’s nothing left, like a black, endless void.

Eventually, they pull away for air and Marc rests his forehead against theirs.

“It’s you and me now, just like it always should’ve been.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Darling, whatever for?”

“If I had stayed back then, none of this would have happened.”

“You did what you needed to do, my love, and it brought you back to me in the end. That’s what matters.”

“What now?”

“Now the fun begins. Now, we let the story unfold.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I know and that’s alright. You just have to trust me. You do trust me, don’t you?”

“Of course I do.”

“Good.” He presses a kiss to their forehead. “I love you.”

Maybe it’s a trick of the light, but when the District Attorney looks up at him, Marc’s eyes are completely black.

#who killed markiplier #wkm #markiplier #damien #actor!mark #the district attorney #mayor man #drama king #the watcher #actingattorney #sfw #friends and old flames #mine

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thetoadghoul · 3 years

Text

Volunteering: (Ohtani x Reader) <333 (Part - 2)

part 1!

plot: Wednesday’s game arrives which Ohtani invited you to, some bonding time before the first pitch <3 slowwwburn, long cause idk details are fun lol

Wednesday quickly arrived, made much faster by the crazy amount of work you were required to do for your ‘actual’ job. The last three days had been spent with you running around the LA area, as well as cyberspace, to serve your role as interpreter. It was hell, for more reasons than one. The biggest of all being that even though you were not in Japan at the moment, you were still required to wear a proper suit. That meant a tight navy skirt, stockings, and some blasted heels. Sexist men, long meetings, and endless paperwork aside, you enjoyed your job for the most part - but this aspect really wore on you. However, the pain in your feet wouldn't damper your excitement for tonight’s game. Today you were not actually volunteering at the Angels stadium.

The day before yesterday, when you were actually volunteering, a bashful Ohtani had tapped you on the back while you were picking up baseballs from the batting cages. When you turned around the giant man was holding out a lanyard with an attached document, marked ‘VIP Guest of Player’. It took all you had not to let your hands shake with nerves as you reached out and grabbed it gingerly.

“Uh, see you on Wednesday.” The man looked to the side awkwardly, running a hand through his hair.

“...Yeah.” You responded with a small smile, feeling stupid, but it was all you could think of.

“Well, uh, I better go...” He motioned behind his back with a lazy thumb, staring to jog backward.

You nodded quickly, rushing to go back to picking up balls before you said something super lame, or weird.

It wasn’t till you were on the way home did you take a look at the back of the stadium pass. It read ‘Guest of Shohei Ohtani’. So he had put in the request for you, that was just like him, so kind. It would be an understatement to say you weren’t excited for tomorrow.

-----

Currently, your heart was still racing, but for another reason other than a certain super cute and insanely talented baseball player. It was because it was almost three-thirty in the afternoon and you were running around your company-provided apartment, trying to get ready as fast as you could. Ippei let you know you should get there around four-thirty, by then the team would have been done warming up and starting to enjoy a pregame meal while the away team got the field to themselves. From that point onwards, pretty much everyone was free to relax in the clubhouse till just before the first pitch.

With little time to consider, not even enough time to take a shower after having just got off work, you went with an oversized red T-shirt, baggy jeans, and some cool Jordan’s. This was your go-to, and it was comfortable. You don’t have many clothes anyway, living out of a suitcase.

Right as you were about to run out of the door you remembered to grab your standard Angels cap, it had been provided to you as part of your volunteer uniform a while back, slipping it on over your tight work bun. You would let your hair down later.

All right, everything was in order, Uber scheduled, lanyard secured.

It took about half an hour to arrive at the stadium, and once it came into view, you instructed the driver to let you out in front of the ballpark entrance. It had been a long time since you got to go through the gates as a member of the audience, it actually gave you a wave of nostalgia seeing everyone in their gear, so hyped up for the game, tailing gating outside for what was probably hours.

Once you were through, you started walking through the concession stands and various other stalls, dodging around the fans that were already inside watching the warm-ups, as well as hanging out drinking and eating. There were pictures of Ohtani everywhere, people taking turns snapping pictures of each other in front of the various cutouts of him. The air was buzzing with energy, and it seemed like all for that guy. Honestly, you had worked for a couple different teams over the years, but you had never seen hype like this. It was surreal, seeing a legend in the making.

You smiled, gripping the lanyard around your neck, making your way through the stadium. Shohei was super nice to do this for you, really, you should show him your support. Maybe a quick peek in the team store would do? Plus, you deserved to spend some money on yourself. After all, this was the first time you had really been ‘out’ in the almost three months you had been in California. Your free time was either working, volunteering, video games, or sleep.

You took a couple moments in the Angel's merch shop, quietly perusing the aisles, keeping an eye out for any Ohtani-themed items. Unfortunately, there weren’t really that many, probably sold out by the fans. What was there, was way too small for you.

“Y/n, you here to watch the game?” A young voice sounded.

When you turned to see who addressed you, a familiar girl was standing there grinning.

“Hey Jordan! I didn’t know you were working tonight.” You grinned back.

Jordan worked at the store as a stock manager, she was close in age to you so the two of you often hung out. You had invited her over a couple times, both bonding over your love for crappy reality TV, beer, and of course, baseball.

“Yeah it was last minute, a girl was feeling sick and there wasn’t anyone else cept’ me.” She sighed.

“Bummer, text me if you need help?” You offered, to which she waved you off.

“Nah, you enjoy being here and NOT working.” She chuckled, walking over to organize a messy shelf.

“So, you looking for something in particular?” The girl glanced over her shoulder.

“Uh yeah, you recommend any cool Ohtani stuff? Or is there any at all... seems wiped clean in here.” You said while looking around.

“Ohtani? You here to cheer him on too then. Wanna catch his eye.” She teased.

“Don’t say it like I’m just here for my like, prince charming.” You snapped back playfully, but, maybe a little too fast.

“Aren’t you?” She pressed with an eyebrow.

“Okay, I’m leaving.” You pouted, fake walking away.

“I’m just kidding, actually, stay here for a second I might have something you’ll like.” Jordan yelled as she jogged off to the back room behind the counters.

You did as you were told and when she came back there was a large white Angels jersey in her hands.

“Ta-da!” She grinned, twisting it around to show the player’s name on the back.

“Oh, it’s in Kanji? That’s cool, I didn’t know these existed?” You questioned, running your finger over the ‘tani’ character of Ohtani.

“It’s the last one on the floor, had to grab it off the mannequin. Hope it’s not too big? It’s XL?” She questioned, passing it to you to hold.

“Nah it’s perfect, can’t you tell.” You joked holding the jersey next to you, while you showed off your oversized clothes.

“Figured it'd be fine, wanna get rung up? I’ll give you that ‘good good’ employee discount. But, don’t tell anyone.” She smiled, heading to the register, to which you nodded and jogged after her.

After you finished your purchase and waved bye to Jordan, it was time to head to the clubhouse. It was around five, so you were later than you planned but Shohei usually practiced batting in the cages a little while longer while everyone headed in. Slipping the plastic shopping bag into your purse, and ripping the tags off your new jersey, you slipped it on over your T-shirt, smoothing out the material as best you could. It felt great to finally have some real merch from the team, and part of you sort of wondered what Ohtani would think when he saw you. Hopefully, it wasn’t too much to just show up in his gear after he pretty much randomly invited you, let alone in the stadium-specific one, as you just learned from your colleague.

After you got to an employee-only doorway, you pushed on it hoping it was actually open. Ippei had also let you know via text that it would be unlocked for you. Another kindness of Shohei, not just inviting you, but making sure you had access to all the catering and AC inside the resisted area of the building. You slipped in and locked the door behind you, not wanting to encourage some intoxicated fans to follow. The hallway was empty and cool as you started making your way to the clubhouse.

You were admittedly a bit nervous by the time you got to the doors, feeling a bit awkward about strutting in as anyone other than a volunteer for the first time. Carefully you pushed open the door, making sure not to hit anybody. The room was full of chatter, some players eating, some playing cards, others watching TV on the room's monitors. You looked around for Ohtani, but he wasn’t there yet apparently. No matter, you strolled in and went for the snack area. Truthfully you hadn’t eaten since that morning, and that was just a toasted bagel. Turning your back to the rest of the room, you began filling up your plate with cocktail shrimp and grapes.

“Nice jersey.” Ippei said, coming up next to you, grabbing small sandwiches for his plate.

“Is that sarcastic?” You questioned with a smile, finishing your plate.

“Nah, I’m sure he likes it.” Ippei jerked his head to the left.

He? You leaned back to see around the man, meeting Shohei’s surprised face almost immediately. Had he been standing there the whole time? He had obviously been staring at your back, at his name, bashfully looking up to your face when you moved, blinking a couple times to clear his eyes.

“I uh, got it ten minutes ago.” You grinned awkwardly, pointing your thumb proudly at the jersey, hoping he wouldn’t think you were a weirdo.

The large player didn’t say anything, blinking more slowly this time before opting to just nod gently, with a quick “thanks for your support”, hurriedly leaning forward to start filling his plate with all kinds of foods.

—-

Once everyone had their food the three of you found a place to sit while you ate, it was at the back of the room away from the noise, and where the two usually sat before a game anyways. A small conversation started while the three of you ate calmly.

“Why... do you only have grapes, and shrimp?” Ohtani questioned suddenly, looking at your plate baffled. You looked down at it as well, pausing for a moment trying to find out what was so weird about that.

“Uh, well, it’s because... these things are... super expensive in Tokyo. It’s like a rich person food to me.” You smiled, eating a couple shrimps happily.

“Wow. That’s so sad.” Ippei chuckled before taking a bite of his sandwich.

Shohei on the other hand burst out laughing at your response, making you laugh a bit too at your pitiful confession.

“Seriously, I feel like a mega-rich, and very posh, Ginza lady right now - eating nothing but shrimp and fruit. So fancy right? ” You exclaimed, popping a grape in your mouth.

The Japanese player laughed even harder, tears building up as he wiped his eyes.

“Those people wouldn’t touch that stuff with a three-meter stick.” Ippei stated, letting out a small laugh.

“Just let me have my moment.” You pouted through a smile, shoving more shrimp in your mouth.

The other man calmed down finally and was now sitting there smiling while he ate.

“So, fancy y/n, are you okay to sit in the dugout tonight. Not too unrefined for you?” Ippei questioned with a smirk.

“That’s, allowed?” You asked, surprised.

“Yeah, if you want to. Can’t stay there the whole time, but.” The man responded nonchalantly, shrugging his shoulders.

“It’s the best place to hear, ‘the surprise’.” Shohei added, food in the process of being shoved in his mouth.

“Well, doesn’t seem like there’s any other option.” You smiled at the player, who nodded in acknowledgment.

“He’s batting first tonight, you won’t have to wait long.” Ippei spoke, starting on the next sandwich.

“Hope me being in there won’t be bad luck.” You joked.

“You believe in that?” Ippei smirked.

“My family ingrained it into me, wasn’t allowed to watch a single super bowl game in the living room till I literally moved out.” You frowned, stabbing a grape.

“Harsh.” The man smirked with a small laugh under his breath.

“You will be good luck, for sure.” Shohei leaned forward in a hunch to take another bite of food, smiling sincerely at you as he looked up from his food.

“Then, I will see to it that will become a very good omen. Please believe in me.” You responded in the highest form of keigo you knew, bowing rigidly from your seat for comedic effect. Since you never studied that level of grammar, it was really freaking bad, causing the two men to laugh again.

“You’re funny.” Ippei chuckled.

“Yeah, and your Japanese is so good though?” Shohei exclaimed, eyebrows raised, eyes wide.

“Nah it’s pretty bad, I fell off the study wagon a long time ago.” You laughed awkwardly, waving a hand in front of your face.

“You’d be there forever if you stayed on.” Ippei chuckled again, while Shohei nodded in sullen agreement.

“Writing would be nice though, having to look up every other kanji at the doctor's office, or like city hall makes me literally sweat, like, a lot. Buckets. But when I look around, I'm the only one.” You giggled.

“You’re so honest.” Shohei chuckled, wiping his mouth with a napkin, still leaning forward in his chair, you grinned back at him. Your eyes locked for a while, you had never noticed, but his eyelashes were sort of long.

At that moment Ippei had to take a call, letting the two of you know he’d be back in a bit, walking off. The two of you looked away and finished eating in silence.

When you looked up from your empty plate, the large player was now staring at you with a soft expression. The warmth in his eyes made you blush, he didn’t even break his gaze once he was caught like he usually did. You responded back to him simply with a shy smile, before being the one to avert your own eyes to the floor again.

Thankfully at that moment, a group of Angels came over, slapping the Japanese man on the back, starting up a conversion. They were going over strategies for the game and overall just getting hyped up. You didn’t have much to input, so you just kind of sat there enjoying the excited chatter. Shohei smiled merrily the whole time, inserting little jokes, completely affected by their excitement. The way he carried himself really reminded you that the essence of baseball was really just about having fun with your teammates and giving it your all. He looked simply happy to be there, and it made you smile too, just watching him goof off. It was charming to see his duality of being a just big kid with endless laugher, versus the super-serious, and seasoned player he was on the mound.

You were really trying hard not to but, you were rapidly developing feelings for Shohei. The last three months of volunteering here, you of course thought he was really cute and kind, classic boyfriend material. A simple crush, like many of the girls working around him, surely had as well. However the possibility of you two actually dating had always been a foreign concept, one which stopped you from even considering it, at all, you just didn’t know if you even could. With you both traveling for work, how would there be time? Plus, what about the media? His family? Yours? All those things seemed unscalable walls, that is, until this moment, when you could feel his gentle eyes on you once again.

Maybe, there was something? Or maybe, he was just a super nice guy, and you were treated no different than anyone else.

When you snapped out of your thoughts, Shohei was starting to stand up, grabbing everyone’s empties plates. He reached his hand towards you, asking for the one in your hand with a tiny nod of his head, to which you thanked him, stood up, and handed it over.

Well.

Either way, you were so screwed.

-------

Hope you enjoyed! <3

#大谷翔平 #ohtani shohei #shohei ohtani #ohtani shohei imagines #shohei ohtani imagines #ohtani imagines #ohtani x reader #ohtani #ohtani angels

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writingwhimsey · 2 years

Text

Just the Two of Us

Be My Valentine Content Creation Challenge Day 11- Dancing with each other while no one is around

Hosted by: @xxsycamore and @chaosangel767

Fandom: Ikemen Vampire

Character: Leonardo Da Vinci

No warnings just fluff

Just The Two of Us

I sat by my window, a cup of tea in my hand as I gazed up at the night sky. I'd been confined to my bed for the last few days from a cold. Leonardo had been attending to me, but he wasn't here now. He had gone with le Comte to a party, though he had tried to get out of it, since I was no longer able to go with them.

I sighed, feeling a bit lonely though I had been the one to insisted Leonardo still go. He had agreed to it in the first place and he had already been doing a wonderful job taking care of me. He deserved to get out for a little while.

It was then that I felt a sudden warmth around my shoulders and I was enveloped by the familiar scent of leather, paint, and cigarillos. "Gotta keep you warm, cara mia."

I looked up, having not even heard Leonardo come in. He had draped his overcoat over my shoulders. "I thought you would still be at the party with le Comte."

"Not when my cara mia is home sick." He replied as he sat down beside me, and wrapping an arm around my shoulders.

I smiled at the warmth in his voice and the love in his eyes. "I'm feeling much better you know. Pretty sure your care over these last few days has helped."

Leonardo smiled at me and kissed my forehead. "At least it seems your fever has gone down."

"How was the party?" I asked.

"Eh, it was okay." He answered. "Would have been better if I'd had my pretty girl by my side."

I felt my cheeks flush at his answer. "I wish I could have gone...this stupid cold." I said with a sigh. "I was really looking forward to dancing with you."

Leonardo's eyes warmed with affection. "That so?"

It was then that beautiful piano music began to drift from Mozart's music room. "Sounds like Mozart is composing again...it's a really pretty melody."

"It's a good tune." Leonardo said. "Perfect in fact."

I looked up at him. "Hmm?"

He was then standing up and offering me his hand. "May I have this dance, cara mia?"

"I..."

"You were just saying you were looking forward to dancing with me, no?" He replied. "This is even better than at a party. I get you all to myself here."

I smiled as I placed my hand in his and allowed him to pull me up. He held my hand in his while his other went to rest at the small of my back. He led me gracefully through the dance and I couldn't help the smile that came to my face.

"You're right, this is definitely better than dancing at some stuffy old party."

Leonardo chuckled and drew me in closer until our bodies were flush. "I'm just glad to see that smile back on your face."

"It's pretty easy to smile when I'm with you, Leonardo."

"How can one person be so adorable?" He muttered before kissing me sweetly.

I couldn't think of anything to say to that when we broke apart. Instead I buried my flushing face in his chest. He chucked and kissed the top of my head.

"I love you, cara mia."

"I love you, too Leonardo."

#be my valentine content creation challenge #be my valentine #ikevamp #ikevamp leonardo #leonardo da vinci #ikemen vampire #ikemen vampire leonardo #otome boys #cybird #cybird ikemen #cybird otome #ikemen series #fluff

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elvish-sky · 3 years

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Some Main Musical Themes of the Lord of the Rings & an Explanation of Leitmotifs

Welcome to part 1 of who knows how many analyzing the Lord of the Rings soundtracks (I’ll get to The Hobbit eventually)! This isn’t exactly an analysis, more like me talking about cool things in each piece. Before I get started, I want to make it very clear that this is in no way complete or comprehensive, there are so many themes central to the movies, and I am in no way an expert. I’ll continue posting more analyses, this is just what I could fit in the first one!

So, I feel like to understand a decent amount of what I’m going to talk about here, you have to understand what a leitmotif is. It is defined as “a recurrent theme throughout a musical or literary composition, associated with a particular person, idea, or situation.” So basically any recurring few notes or bit of music in cinema is a leitmotif. (The Flight of the Valkyries by Richard Wagner is a famous example).

Howard Shore did a ridiculously complicated and incredible job creating leitmotifs for The Lord of the Rings, and I’m pretty sure there’s around 100 different ones (not counting the Hobbit films). The really cool thing that he did was not only create themes for characters, but also for places, cultures, and ideas! Here I’ll be talking about some of the main themes of the music in the movies.

The Main Themes of The Lord of the Rings, of which there are many so please don’t be mad if I forget some. There will be more parts to this soundtrack-analyzing series!

The History of the Ring. You probably know this as one of the three main-ish themes for the movies. It’s one of my favorites especially because of the way it’s weaved into other pieces. For example, if you listen to Gollum’s ‘music’ you can hear a distortion of the ring theme, symbolizing the effect the One Ring had on Gollum.

The Fellowship Theme. If you don’t know this one already then you’re quite possibly dead to me. This one is sooo cool because it starts off with that ‘bum, bum, ba da dum” which is known as the “there and back again” motif because it starts at one note, goes down, and then returns to the original. After that, you hear those nine epic notes. “Nine notes?” you ask me. “That seems familiar.” That’s because it is! Shore intentionally used nine notes to symbolize the nine members of the Fellowship! Another fun (or slightly depressing fact) is that after Boromir’s death we do not hear the full theme again until the Battle at the Black Gate, showing how the Fellowship broke.

The Shire Theme. The Shire theme has many different settings and themes, but is one of the most recognizable pieces of music in the series. It’s heard at the beginning of the piece Concerning Hobbits, in that lovely flutey sound, the hymn setting. This is restated in many different ways throughout the movies and is also used often to represent nostalgia. You also hear a little restatement of the ‘There and Back Again’ motif! Also, this is sometimes known as Frodo’s theme as well.

Lothlorien. This appears in the prologue for the first time when Galadriel is telling the story of the One Ring. It is ethereal and lovely and peaceful. Another very cool thing that Shore does through the movies is introduced here- whenever we hear a chorus/human voices in the music, they are singing in one of Tolkien’s languages. Here, obviously, they’d be singing in Elvish. When the Fellowship enters Khazad-Dûm, we hear men singing in dwarvish. This is also a very cool thing because it was a conscious decision between Shore and the filmmakers, especially Peter Jackson, as what is being sung is often lines/descriptions from the books that didn’t make it into the dialogue of the movie. It also includes lots of the songs that Tolkien had written in the books. This strategy gave the filmmakers an opportunity to really include everything of Tolkien’s they could, really making them his movies, and is one of the key reasons why the Lord of the Rings films are so good.

Isengard Theme. So epic. So evil. So awesome. The beginning is rather like the “there and back again” theme once more, which not only is super cool because duh, but also helps signify both Gandalf and Saruman’s leadership for each group.

The Realm of Gondor is a theme that is most often used to represent Aragorn and his heritage. It also ties a lot of Faramir’s memories to Boromir. We barely hear it in the first two movies, but it becomes the principal theme of Return of the King and plays in some of the most epic scenes, like when we see Gandalf riding up to Minas Tirith.

Moria. So again, the singing heard in this piece is in Khuzdul with some lines lifted verbatim from the books, which I think is super cool and really adds something to the atmosphere! The singing is only faint, hinting at the danger, until the Balrog is there and then it is aggressive. It is overall very dark, foreboding music, which I love!

Again- I am not an expert on music or composition or any of this- just a teenager who wants to share some knowledge!

That’s all for now, because I promised this like a month ago and here we are a month later and I really just need to post it. But there will be a part 2 that will go into a whole lot more detail at some point in time, never fear!

and i’d love to hear all your thoughts on this!

i’m tagging everyone who said they were interested! @gossip-girl-of-middle-earth @wishingtobeinadifferentuniverse @beenovel @themerriweathermage @the-reformed-ringwraith @anironnn @eru-vande @kumqu4t @cfjqueen @godblessthecactusess @starryeyedrogue @morrigan-of-beleriand @gremlinfaemess @fridaywormteeth @redfurrycat

#lord of the rings #the hobbit #jrr tolkien #music #lord of the rings soundtrack #lotr soundtrack #soundtrack #movie #movie soundtrack #soundtrack analysis

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felassan · 3 years

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Some DA trivia and dev commentary from Twitter

There’s a lot of different tweets, so I’m just pasting and linking to the source rather than screencapping them all or making several different posts or something. Post under cut for length.

User: Was dragon age 2 your favourite in the franchise?

David Gaider: DA2 was the project where my writing team was firing on all cylinders, and they wrote like the wind- because they had to! Second draft? Pfft. Plot reviews? Pfft. I was so proud of what we all accomplished in such a brief time. I didn't think it was possible. [source] DA2 is, however, also where the goal posts kept moving. Things kept getting cut, even while we worked. I had to write that dialogue where Orsino turned even if you sided with him, because his boss battle had been cut and there was no time to fix the plot. A real WTF moment. >:( [source]

Mike Rousseau: I remember bugging that! And then being told it wasn't a bug, and being so confused. Doing QA for DA2 was an experience. Trial by fire. [source]

DG: So I think it's safe to say DA2 is my favorite entry in the DA franchise and also the sort of thing I never want to live through ever again. Mixed feelings galore. [source]

User: (I personally blame whoever it was for ruining most romance arcs in other games for me; they don't live up to Fenris's romance storyline)

DG: I wrote Fenris, so uh - me, I guess? Or maybe his cinematic designer, who put in the puppy dog eyes. [source]

User: If DA2 had just been an expansion, do you think it would have been better received? There was a lot of great stuff in there, and I think my initial dislike of it was because of the zone reuse. If it hadn't needed to be a full game, would that issue not have arisen?

DG: Hard to say. It was either going to be an over-scoped expansion or an under-scoped sequel. If it had stayed an expansion, it might never have received the resources/push it DID get. [source]

User: I'd love to visit the universe where you had an extra year or so to work on it. You did a very good job as it stands, but it definitely had rough edges. Not just the writing team either. The whole game had hit and miss moments, that just a little more dev time could have fixed.

DG: On one hand, DA2 existed to fill a hole in the release schedule. More time was never in the cards. DA2 was originally planned as an expansion! On the other, if we had more time, would we have started doing that thing where we second guess/iterate ourselves into mediocrity? [shrug emoji] [source]

Jennifer Hepler: This is what I love about DA2. Personally, I greatly prefer something that's rough and raw and sincere to something that's had all the soul polished out of it. Extra time would have helped for art and levels, but it would have lost something too. [source]

DG: Right? I think we could have used some time for peer reviews (and fewer cuts), but I think the rawness of the writing lent a certain spark that we usually polished out. [source]

JH: Definitely. I think the structure (more character-driven) and the tightness of the timeframe let each individual writer's voice really come through. Polish can be very homogenizing. [source]

DG: I should add I'm not, by any means, against iteration. Some iteration is good and necessary. The problem that BioWare often had is that we never knew when to stop. Like a goldfish, we would fill the space given to us by constantly re-iterating on things that were "good enough". [source]

Patrick Weekes: I appreciate your incredibly diplomatic use of the past tense on "had". :D [source]

User: DA2 was my gateway into the series and I’m so happy it is. I love the game the way that it is. It’s one of my favorites of all time. But I am also aware of everything that was said here. If it were remastered, do you think it would change?

DG: I'd be surprised if it was ever remastered. If it was, do you really think they'd change things? Do remasters do that? No idea. [source]

User: Both sides got undercut as I recall. Didn't that whole sequence also end with the mage leader embracing blood magic? It was very much "a plague on both your houses" moment, at least for me.

DG: Yep. Orsino was supposed to have his own version of Meredith's end battle, which only happened if you sided with the templars. That got cut, but the team still wanted to use the model we'd made for him. So... that happened. [source]

DG: I would personally say that DA2 is a fantastic game hidden under a mountain of compromises, cut corners, and tight deadlines. If you can see past all that, you'll see a fantastic game. I don't doubt, however, that it's very difficult for most to do that. [source]

PW: I love DAI with all my selfish "I worked on this" heart, but DA2's follower arcs and relationships are probably my favorite in the series. [source]

User: As I've expressed many times, I love the game, especially it's writing and characters but, for me, the most impressive aspect of it, in consideration of it's lack of time for drafts and revisions, is the 2nd act with Arishok. What amazingly complex character and fantastic duel

User: Just played it again and I have to agree. Though he is bound by the harsher tenants of the Qun, he makes valid points about free marcher society. Though it is obvious that he and Hawke will come to blows eventually, the tension builds gradually and understandably

DG: Luke did such a fantastic job with the Arishok I found myself sometimes wishing the Qunari plot had just been THE plot. [source]

User: What do you think would have changed, story wise, if you had more time for DA2?

DG: I would have taken out that thing where Meredith gets the idol. It was forced on me because she needed to be "super-powered" with red lyrium for her final battle. Being "crazy", however, robbed her side of the mage/templar argument of any legitimacy. I hated hated hated that. [source]

User: I deeply lament that there wasn't/couldn't be some sort of DA2 equivalent of Throne of Bhaal's Ascension mod.

DG: I'd have done it, if DA2 had allowed for anything but the most rudimentary of modding. ;) [source]

User: I mean, and I think I understand where you were trying, but how much legitimacy did the Templars and her as top Templar have after they're keeping the mages locked up against their will in the old slave quarters? Feel free to not reply.

DG: I think it's the kind of discussion which requires nuance, and which discussions on the Internet are not prone to. [source]

User: Was a compromise that the quest lines don’t branch? It felt like it was supposed to be that way but then you end up in the same place later regardless of what you pick. Like I hoodwinked the templars so good to help the apostates escape but in Act II they were caught anyway.

DG: I remember us having a lot more branching in the initial planning yes. Most of this got trimmed out in the first or second wave of cuts, in an effort to not cut the plots altogether. [source]

DG: "If you could Zack Snyder DA2, what would you change?" Wow. I'm willing to bet Mark or Mike (or anyone else on the team) would give very different answers than me, but it's enough to give a sober man pause, because that was THE Project of Multiple Regrets. [source] I mean, it's the most hypothetical of hypotheticals. It's never gonna happen. I wouldn't be surprised if EA considered DA2 its embarrassing red-headed stepchild. We'd also need to ignore that in many ways DA2 was as good as it was bad BECAUSE of how it was made. But that aside? [source] First, either restore the progressive changes to Kirkwall we'd planned over the passing of in-game years or reduce the time between acts to months instead of years... which, in hindsight, probably should have been done as soon as the progressive stuff was cut. [source] I'm sure you're like "get rid of repeated levels!" ...but I don't care about that. All I wanted was for Kirkwall to feel like a bigger city. Way more crowded. More alive! Fewer blood mages. [source] I'd want to restore the plot where a mage Hawke came THIS close to becoming an abomination. An entire story spent trapped in one's own head while trapped on the edge of possession. Why? Because Hawke is the only mage who apparently never struggles with this. It was a hard cut. [source]

User: I would LOVE to hear more details about this! I don’t suppose there’s any chance of a short story?

DG: I don't even remember the details of the story, sorry. There was a fight, and you caught the bad guy and then realized none of it was real and woke up idk [source]

DG: I'd want to restore all those alternate lines we cut, meaning people forget they'd met you. Or that they knew you were a mage. Or, oh god, that maybe they'd romanced you in DAO. So much carnage. [source] I'd want to restore the Act 3 plots we cut only because they were worked on too late, but which would have made the buildup to the mage/templar clash less sudden. Though I don't remember what they were, now. Some never got beyond being index cards posted on the wall. [grimace emoji] [source] As I mentioned elsewhere, I'd want to restore Orsino's end battle so he wouldn't need to turn on you even if you sided with him. And I'd want an end fight with the templars that didn't require Meredith to have red lyrium and go full Tetsuo. [source] Heck, maybe an end decision where you sided with neither the mages nor the templars. Because it certainly ended up feeling like you could brand both sides as batshit pretty legitimately, no? That was never planned, tho. No idea how to make that feel like an actual path atm. [source] Maybe an option to go "umm, Anders... what are you DOING?" 👀 [source] And, of course, a Varric romance, because Mary took that "slimy car salesman" character we'd planned and did the impossible with him. I can feel Mary glaring at me for even suggesting this, tho. [source] Lastly, the original expanded opening to the game which allowed you to spend time with Bethany and Carver BEFORE the darkspawn attacked. And, um, that's about it off the top of my head. Zack Snyder, WHAT PANDORA'S BOX HAVE YOU OPENED. [source] Shit, I remembered two more things: 1) Restore the "Varric exaggerates the heck out of the story" at the beginning of every Act, until Cassandra calls him on it. Yes, that was a thing. 2) Make DA: Exodus. Yes, I am still bitter. [source] God damn it, I meant "Make DA: Exalted March". The DA2 expansion, NOT Exodus since that was DA2's original name and makes no sense. Because the expansion ended with Varric dying, and that will always be on my "things left undone" list. [source]

User: Whaaaat?

DG: Well, you know that scene in Wrath of Khan where Spock goes into the dilithium chamber because he's a Vulcan? Well, imagine that but with Varric and red lyrium and because he's a dwarf. ;) [source]

John Epler: I distinctly remember referencing the bit from MGS4 where you crawl through the microwave corridor in the split screen, while cinematic battle rages on the other half. [source]

DG: It would have been glorious, John. Glorious. [source]

JE: I don't think I've ever been so certain what a shot should look like as I did Hawke coming in and finding Varric in the broken throne, just like when he was telling Cassandra his story. [source]

DG: It would have come full circle! Auggghh, it still kills me. [source]

User: Lord, you folks are a little too good at this.

JE: The true secret behind videogame narrative is knowing how to make yourself seem a lot more clever than you actually are. [source] 'Oh, we TOTALLY planned that.' [source]

User: Ok, this thread [the DA2 regrets thread, which is the big chunks above] but Inquisition.

DG: My regrets about Inquisition are, more or less, the normal kind. Nothing so dramatic, I'm afraid. [source]

User: You can keep your Varric romance, I want a Flemeth romance goddamnit!

DG: I would allow for one flirt option, and then a recording of Kate Mulgrew laughing for three minutes straight. [source]

User: I had a hypothesis about the repetitive caves in DA2. They're repetitive because it's Varric telling the story and he didn't consider them important. They're like sets in a play. (Okay, I really suspect it was a time/money/resources thing but I like my fake explanation better.)

DG: Hang a lampshade on it, maybe? Cassandra: "But that's the exact cave you were in last time?" Varric: "Whatever. They all look the same, I'm not THAT kind of dwarf. Can we move on?" [source]

User: that makes sense, hypothetically to make Varric romanceable and keep his arc—that had to happen for the main plot—I imagine you would have to make double the content (or more)? which would've been a tall order given the time/budget constraints the game was under

DG: Right. When it comes to "romance arc" vs. "follower story arc", we generally only had time to do one or the other. Never both. Romancing Varric would have meant not getting the story of his that you did. [source]

Mary Kirby: The one exaggeration I really, REALLY wanted, that we never got to do was Varric narrating his own death scene with Hawke weeping over him, then cutting to Cassandra's pissed off glaring at him. [source]

DG: Haha! The one I wanted was Varric's plot where he takes on the baddies single-handedly, sliding across the floor like Jet Lee, action movie-style, until finally Cassandra gets irritated and he has to admit Hawke & the rest of the party showed up to help. [source]

MK: We did that one! (He didn't do any Jet Lee moves, though.) Jepler gave him letterboxing to get The Good, the Bad, & the Ugly showdown vibes while he shot a ton of mooks single-handed. [source]

DG: Wow. Shows how much I remember. [source]

JE: I found it! I remember seeing this sequence as my treat for doing a bunch of much more challenging work. It was fun to see how far I could push our limited library of animations. [link] [source]

DG: Heh awesome. I could have sworn it was cut, honestly. I think I was even in that meeting. [source]

User: no disrespect but that’s surprising and rich of Mary “Hard in Hightown” Kirby to think DA2 shouldn’t have had a Varric romance when she wrote an entire book of Varric’s self-insert character pining over his Hawke insert character… HIH is the reason we had VHawke Summer 2018

DG: I can't *really* speak for Mary, or how she feels about it now compared to back then. I only know how she felt about it back then, and I'm not sure it was as much the concept of the romance but that Varric's entire story would be bent to "romance arc" ...a very different thing. [source]

JH: I remember pushing to have the first DLC start with Hawke having an option to ask Varric, "Did you tell Cassandra about us?" and if you picked it, Varric would answer, "Of course not, baby. I told her you were sleeping with X..." and then proceed as if you had had a full romance. [source]

DG: I still wonder how that would have gone over. x) [source]

JE: Okay, one more DA2 thing. Putting together the cinematics for this scene was a blast. [link] [source]

MK: These lines are my greatest legacy. I want "Make sure the world knows I died... at Chateau Haine!" inscribed on my tombstone. [source]

JE: I was so glad no one said 'no' to the crane shot. [source]

MK: It needs that crane shot. It's the perfect icing on that cake made from solid cheese. [source]

DG: The designers were all "we need more combat" and I think we were all "I think you underestimate just HOW interesting we can make this dinner party". [source]

JE: And finally. I think @SherylChee wrote the one-liner. I think we had a collection of like, 20. [link] [source]

Sheryl Chee: Yeah! Something like that! I remember submitted a whole bunch and Frank said you only needed one. Wish I'd kept the other fifteen. [source]

JE: A random chooser where, each time through the scene, you get a different one-liner. [source]

JE: DA2 is the project I'm the proudest of. I also absolutely get that it didn't land for a lot of people. But I don't think it's inaccurate to say that, in a lot of ways, DA2 defined my career. [source] Everyone spent a year working at their maximum ability. I was a fresh cinematic designer and was given all of Varric's content, as well as the Act 1 Finale mission. It was a lot for someone who had been doing the Cinematics thing for literally 6 months. [source] There's some stuff in there I can't look at without wincing. And there's some stuff I'm genuinely proud of. Not to mention, it was my introduction to most of the writing team. Several of whom I'm still working with today! Albeit in a different capacity [source] Also, weirdly, one of my most enduring memories of Dragon Age 2 is how much Bad Company 2 we'd play at lunch. It was a LOT. [source] Every game I've worked on has a game I played attached to it. ME2 is Borderlands. DA2 is Bad Company 2. DAI is DayZ. I, hmm. There's a progression there. I don't know how I feel about it. [source]

User: Is DA4 going to be tarkov then?

JE: I've kind of churned out of Tarkov for now. Probably Hunt Showdown, at least right now. [source]

User: I think people also don't take nuance into consideration -- like I FULLY acknowledge the flaws in my favorite games and will openly criticize them, but that doesn't mean they're not my favorite games anymore??? You can like and thing and still be critical of it.

JE: A lot of my favourite shit is deeply flawed! I acknowledge it and I think it's interesting to dissect the flaws. [source]

User: I still wish Justice was an actual character in DA2 rather than a plot point.

DG: There was a moment during DAI where we *almost* put in you running into Justice with the Grey Wardens, and he's all "Kirkwall? I never went to Kirkwall" [source]

User: Does that imply that Justice was shoehorned in to DA2?

DG: Nah, it was an in-joke where we thought it'd be fun to suggest that "Justice" was simply some demon that tricked Anders in DA2. Wooo those tricky demons! We didn't do it, though. [source]

User: [about templars] except, I don't think it had very much legitimacy to begin with. keep in mind, we interact with other characters with the same argument. The one that comes to mind is Cullen, a sane templar in power. The templar's side of the argument is inherently flawed.

DG: I don't doubt that many people agree with you, and yet people can and do argue on behalf of the templars as well. My place isn't to pick a side, but to provide evidence that players can interpret for themselves [source]

User: Can you shed some light for us on how DA was able to do multiple same-sex romance options for different genders but the Mass Effect team treated them like the plague? What process existed for your team that just wasn't their for the other tentpole franchise?

DG: Different people making the decisions, almost different cultures. I don't know what it's like now, but for many years the Mass Effect team and the Dragon Age team were almost like two different studios working within the same building. [source]

User: It truly boggles the mind. Kudos for doing demonstrably better on consistent queer representation than the ME teams. Y'all never needed us to make petitions to try to get the studio's attention and ask them to do better by us. That's the fight we're once again embroiled in now.

DG: Honestly, I don't feel like tut-tutting the Mass Effect team. They did their part, and if they were a bit later to the show than the DA team they certainly did more than almost every other game out there -- and willingly. [source]

Updates begin here

User: So what was the reason for naming Dragon age 2 "Dragon age II" and not using a subtitle?

DG: As I recall, that was purely a publisher decision. I think they wanted to avoid the impression it was an expansion. [source]

User: Is there no chance of ever remaking DA2 under better circumstances? -Somehow remove the repetitiveness of gameplay by making changes and updating the tech and adding much more to the storyline. It could almost be a new very exciting game.

DG: I'd say there's zero chance of that. Let's keep our hopes up for the next DA title instead. [source]

User: I am a little confused here, help me out here please! How exactly was the cut boss battle with Orsino supposed to work out? How it would've kept him from turning against the player?

DG: It means that, if you sided with the templars, the entire boss bottle at the end would have been against Orsino and the mages. No fight against Meredith. The end decision would have been more divergent. [source]

User: I do remember that one of the reasons going around for that, was that resources were going to the transition to Frostbite. I'm still not fully sold on that having been a good choice. I felt that more time should have been given for that transition considering it was made for FPSs

DG: We didn't transition to Frostbite until DAI. Given our time frame for DA2, I don't think we *could* have transitioned to a new engine. [source]

User: Since your talking about the what could have been for DA2. Could you say what your script was for Anthem? Cause I remember reading that you wrote the plot on that game.

DG: I created a setting for Anthem and scripted out a plot - but, as I understand it, almost none of that ended up being used. So it's a bit pointless to talk about what I'd planned, as that'd be for some completely different type of game. [source]

User: [in reference to the exchange above where DG said “Being "crazy", however, robbed her side of the mage/templar argument of any legitimacy. I hated hated hated that.” re: Meredith] except, I don't think it had very much legitimacy to begin with. keep in mind, we interact with other characters with the same argument. The one that comes to mind is Cullen, a sane templar in power. The templar's side of the argument is inherently flawed.

If I missed a tweet, got the wrong source link or included a tweet twice, feel free to let me know and I’ll correct.

Edit / Update: Post update 22nd April

#dragon age #bioware #video games #fenris #the Fenaissance #long post #longpost #cassandra pentaghast #my lady paladin #dragon age 4 #the dread wolf rises #da4 #mass effect

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leiawritesstories · 3 years

Text

Speak To My Heart

Rowaelin Month, Day 15: A bad day

Word count: 3422

Warnings: language, bit of depression, fighting. In short, there is angst in this fic. Hope the ending makes up for the rest.

Linguistics and foreign languages are two of my personal passions, so please bear with the bits of language talk that I couldn’t resist including. Brief word of clarification: a lot of expressions we use in English either translate into something extremely rude or don’t make sense in other languages. Translation companies have been trying for quite some time to make sure they don’t accidentally send a client a translated instruction manual that reads “fuck your mother” instead of “for questions, contact your local energy department.” All right I’ll get off my soapbox. :)

The phrases in foreign languages, marked with *, are translated into English at the end. Enjoy!

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

Rowan’s day had been shit. The second he walked through the door, he’d been bombarded with an endless slew of crash reports, malfunctioning equipment, faulty passwords, and best of all, having to rewrite half the security firewalls because one of the rash young idiots in his department couldn’t be bothered to check his work for errors before sending it to management. And management thought it was the department boss’s job to fix all of his employees’ fuckups.

He hated IT.

Even more so since being promoted to department chair.

All he wanted to do was the fun stuff--program design and development, fixing the flaws in his own designs, and of course making those who tried to break into his company’s systems regret their pitiful existence. But Cadre Tech’s bitch of a CEO refused to let the best software engineer on her staff actually do his job.

Most days, he could cope with the pile of useless shit she directed to his desk. Most days. Today was not one of those days. Probably because on top of all the meaningless tasks he’d had to field, he was also forced to sit through one of Maeve’s bullshit “department head strategy sessions,” where every department chair had to pretend they gave a single shit about any word coming from their CEO’s garishly red, pinched mouth.

As if she knew anything her staff actually did.

Thanks to the compulsory meeting, Rowan was stuck in his office at nearly ten o’clock, painstakingly combing through the final draft of the update to CT’s translation program. This program had shot the company to fame and fortune, or at least insane stock value. “A Google Translate that actually translates,” their marketing department called it, and by the gods, that stupid slogan worked. And made sense. Rowan knew the program was just as good as it claimed to be.

He’d put in the hours, alongside a team of linguists, software engineers, designers, and people fluent in at least one other language. Frequent were the sessions where the project whiteboard turned into a jumble of words in twenty or more languages, Spanish alongside Arabic next to a column of simplified Japanese characters spilling over into a row of Cyrillic lettering. Rowan himself spoke German and some Spanish, but even he was lost amid the cacophony of eighteen different people switching from language to language, trying to figure out how idiomatic expressions translated from one language to another and what words should never, ever be placed together.

It took the team well over a year of bickering, or as they called it, friendly linguistic disagreements, to make it from loosely mapped concept to functioning program. By the time it hit the market three years ago, the software had been so well promoted that companies all over the world snapped up their chance to finally communicate properly with the client they’d offended years ago with a bad translation.

At launch, of course, Maeve stood in front of a sea of shouting reporters brandishing microphones, smiling her serpentine smile, and proceeded to thank the creative team for all their “contributions” before taking all the credit herself.

Said creative team went to the bar that had become their usual gathering spot that night to get drunk and shit-talk their horrible boss, not necessarily in that order.

His favorite memory of that night was hearing the chief linguist, an outside contract with multiple advanced degrees who spoke eight separate languages besides English fluently, refer to Maeve as “quella puttana rugosa che non riusciva a convincere un cazzo a venire a dieci metri da lei se si vestiva da figa.*” The Italian speakers on the team were crying with laughter, and so was everyone else, once she translated it.

And then she downed another shot of vodka and hissed something that sounded like “sukya bliyad, no puedo mich betrinken con esta ordures.**” When everyone blinked in confusion, she sighed and relayed the sentiment in English.

Nobody had laughed as hard as Rowan. Aelin Galathynius just had that effect on him.

She brightened his darkest days.

But she couldn’t ease the strain of today.

And it was all his fault.

Aelin glanced up at the clock on her wall and cursed in three different languages when she saw that it was nearly eleven. Without meaning to, she’d spent all afternoon and evening writing lesson notes on idiomatic expressions. She really couldn’t help herself once she got into the topic; it was her pet project.

And the subject of one of her dissertations. Yes, she had multiple.

She’d worked her ass off for years to get through college, then through graduate and doctoral work while teaching at universities to offset costs, then earned a full-time teaching position at one of the top-ranked universities in the world. She got to teach linguistics, her lifetime love, and give guest lectures at other universities and at conferences, teaching people all over the world about the complexities and interrelatedness of language. Hell, she spoke ten; she’d be qualified to speak on linguistic relationships by virtue of that alone.

Gods, she was the chief linguist behind the most successful translation software ever produced. Even if the bitch who owned the rights to said software had literally threatened to sue over ownership rights if any of the people who’d poured their figurative blood and sweat and literal tears into building the program tried to claim a small piece of the credit each of them so richly deserved.

That software and her role in its creation--even though Maeve Ond had claimed the public credit, the creative team spoke at interviews and made news features for their work in Cadre Tech’s massive success--had solidified her credentials as a professor of linguistics, had boosted her into her lecturer spot.

Last year, her university granted her tenure.

She should have been overjoyed, and she was, but not as much as earning tenure deserved.

Because there was nobody to share her joy.

Three years ago, in the wake of CT’s overnight jump to worldwide fame, Aelin fled a love she did not and never would deserve.

She told herself she would never look back. But she did. Almost every day, she looked back at the life she’d shared with Rowan and tried to convince herself that she did the right thing.

Try as she might, she could never silence the whisper that echoed always in her mind.

“You broke both of your hearts”

Someday, she told herself, someday she would be back in Doranelle. Someday, she would have a chance to apologize. Someday, maybe she could fix the Rowan-shaped chasm that gaped wide in her heart.

Yet here she was, sitting in a very nicely appointed hotel room in the university district of Doranelle, typing furiously away as if burying herself in notes and prep for tomorrow’s lecture could make the urge to contact Rowan disappear.

Three years earlier. Doranelle.

“Knock, knock.”

Rowan’s head jerked up from where it had most definitely not been slumped on his desk. “Wha--Oh. Hi, Aelin.”

“You’re falling asleep, buzzard, let’s go home.” He heard laughter in her soft voice.

“As if you won’t just get home and start cross-checking every single one of the phrases on your ‘potential problem’ list.”

She chuckled, walking over to him. “Fine. We’re both perfectionist work whores. Doesn’t mean we don’t need sleep.”

“I know you too well to believe you’re actually going to sleep.”

“All right, you win. Come home now, I’ll make some food, and you can put me to bed.” She winked saucily at him, leaving very little doubt what putting her to bed would entail, and he was up out of his chair in seconds.

“Hand over your computer, Fireheart,” he grinned as they walked into the small house they shared on the outskirts of the city.

“What?”

“Your computer, love. I’m leaving both of our work bags on the shelf by the front door so we can actually catch some rest tonight.” He pressed a finger to her mouth to silence her protests. “Uh-uh, Ae, we have interviews tomorrow and I won’t let the genius behind this program’s flawless word-to-word be anything but well-rested.”

She sighed, but he saw the love in her eyes. “Here, then, my dear brilliant software engineer. Leave your notebook, too, because I know if it’s anywhere near you, you’ll be up at three in the morning scribbling blocks of gibberish and picking apart your faultless code until you go insane.”

Both of their work satisfactorily put aside, Aelin made good on her promise to cook Rowan dinner.

And then he made very good on his promise to put her to bed.

The next morning, they were both awake with the sunrise, content to lay curled in each other’s arms as the morning light spread across their room.

Rowan drifted back into sleep, waking for good when he caught a whiff of coffee from the kitchen’s direction.

“Morning, you sleepy buzzard,” Aelin grinned, sipping from her mug.

Rowan dropped a kiss on her head as he reached for his mug. He took a long drink, sighing as the milky, sweetened caffeine hit his mouth.

“I will never understand how you drink your coffee black, Fireheart.”

“Not all of us need to sweeten the hell out of coffee to drink it, Ro. Maybe if you can’t handle the real thing, you should go back to your pretty little cups of crappy cafe tea.”

“Mention my pretty little teacups again, Ae…”

She giggled. “You be quiet and drink your coffee-flavored milk, my love. We both know you’re impossibly grumpy until you have caffeine in your veins.”

He grumbled something unintelligible as he drank his coffee.

They were nearly late to work that morning, even having planned an extra half hour to arrive, thanks to Aelin wearing what Rowan dubbed her “sexy professor suit.” She fixed the pins in her French twist in the car, making herself once again a portrait of professionalism, and slipped Rowan’s hand from her leg.

“Two hands on the wheel, Whitethorn.”

He pouted. “But I’m a safe driver and I want to hold your hand.”

“My hands are over here, love, not down by my skirt.”

When he pulled into his spot, Aelin closed her eyes and took a deep, slow breath.

“You good, Fireheart?”

Gods, she loved hearing him call her that. “Yeah. I just…needed a moment to settle myself. To tell myself the cameras aren’t here to tear apart what I say.”

Rowan wrapped his hands around hers. “Dr. Aelin Ashryver Galathynius, the bland reporters are here to stand in awe of your expertise. Not a single word you say will come across as anything but brilliant and beautifully said.”

She squeezed his hands, her usual confidence returning. “I love you, buzzard.”

“I love you too, Fireheart. Let’s go talk about our amazing achievement.”

The day sped by in a blur of reporters, interviewers, teleprompters, practiced speeches, lights, cameras, and crew. When the last bleached-blonde anchor of the last interview of the day cut her crew’s cameras, Aelin flopped against her second-in-linguistic-command, Dr. Nehemia Ytger, the expert on ethnic African languages.

“If I never see a news crew again, it’ll be too soon,” she sighed. “I’m beat.”

Nehemia snickered. “But we’re done talking about how proud we are that Maeve and her marvelous company have done such a grand service to the world.”

Aelin snorted softly. “Right. And now we servicepeople want to go home and take off our heels.”

“Amen to that.”

As the team filed out of the studio, Rowan made his way over to Aelin. “Holding up?”

“Not anymore,” she said, leaning casually into his side. “My heels are killing me, there’s a hairpin stabbing into my scalp, and I really, really need to pee.”

Rowan laughed, deep and husky. “Let’s get you home, then.”

“I’m stopping in the bathroom first.”

Just before she left the ladies’ room, Aelin heard voices in the break area. Familiar voices--Rowan’s, Maeve’s, and the snippy, borderline whiny tones of Remelle Frelau, who worked in the marketing department and had a hell of a boner for Rowan.

“--looking at revenue over--” Maeve’s voice cut out, but from the gasps of the other two, the revenue was through the roof.

“And it’s all thanks to this genius here,” drawled Remelle, who if Aelin had her guess was probably clinging onto Rowan like a platinum-blonde leech.

“Ms. Frelau, this was the product of a team. No single person could possibly have made it happen alone.”

“Oh, call me Remelle, or even better Remy. And you’re the team leader, so you practically did create it by yourself.”

Aelin snickered to herself. Vapid bitch had no idea what she was saying.

“That’s not how teams work, Ms. Frelau. We wouldn’t be here without Dr. Galathynius and Dr. Ytger’s language expertise, not to mention the creative genius of the engineers, graphic designers, linguists, and programmers.”

“Ms. Frelau, though her judgment is clearly biased, has a point, Mr. Whitethorn,” Mave said. “You demonstrated remarkable collaborative leadership qualities throughout this project, and I fully expect that you will continue to do so.” Maeve’s heels clicked away. Rowan’s voice followed her.

“Thank you, Ms. Ond, but I have to credit Dr. Galathynius--”

“Will you stop kissing that woman’s ass?” snorted Remelle. “Gods, she’s not worth your time or your praise; all she does is translate words into different languages and you idiots drool over that like it means anything.”

Aelin jerked like she’d been slapped. She knew Remelle was a self-centered, shallow, spiteful bitch, but she hadn’t known she would do this.

“--did more for this project than you and your useless whiteboard of catchphrases,” growled Rowan.

“I don’t care what she ‘did for the project,’ Rowan, she’s never going to be good enough for you.”

“Thank you for caring about my welfare, Frelau, now please kindly fuck off.”

Aelin chose that moment to saunter out of the bathroom and head straight for Rowan, her face showing no hint of having heard that conversation. She did note with satisfaction Remelle’s vain attempt to march out of the room with some semblance of dignity. Too bad her heel caught on the seam of the hallway carpet and the break room’s tile flooring and she had to grab the doorframe to keep from collapsing.

“You’re awfully quiet, Aelin.”

“Just thinking. Processing, really. It’s been a hell of a day.”

Rowan nodded. “I bet.”

“And hearing fucking Remelle rip into me for being useless…didn’t make it better.”

“Shit, you heard that?”

“Yeah. I heard that.” Her voice was hollow.

Rowan pulled into their driveway and shut off the engine. Reaching across the console, he cupped Aelin’s face in his hands. “Aelin. You are brilliant. You are terrifyingly smart. You are a force of nature. Nothing, nothing you will ever do is useless. Don’t let that jealous bitch make you think you are less than the perfect woman.”

She smiled tentatively at him. “She…she told me before that last interview that I could never be enough for you. Because you--because of Lyria.”

Rowan raked a hand through his hair. “Ae, can we talk about this inside?”

That night, he told her about his former fiancé, Lyria. He told her about their whirlwind romance, their youthful dreams. He told her about the horrific crash that stole away Lyria’s life. A drunk trucker, a narrow pass in the mountains. He showed her the box in which he kept all the memories of that life. He cried. Aelin cried. He curled against her, let her comfort him.

“Sometimes, I wish she was still here. She’d understand everything. She always did.”

Aelin had no response. She let Rowan fall asleep, his weight shifting off her and into his bed, and looked through the box. Everything she saw served as another reminder that this was the first woman he loved, the woman who understood everything.

She was worthy of him.

But was Aelin?

The more she looked at Rowan and Lyria’s happiness, the more the answer solidified.

No.

When Rowan woke up the next morning, Lyria’s box sat on Aelin’s side of the bed, a side that had not held Aelin.

He glanced out the window.

Her car was gone.

He got up and frantically paced through the house.

Everything she’d brought into his home was gone.

As was she.

Present day.

Rowan opened his front door mechanically, pulled off his shoes, dropped his work backpack on its shelf, and was halfway to his bedroom before he realized he’d just opened his front door. His front door that was always locked.

Someone was in his house.

Someone who either had a duplicate key or insanely good lockpicking skills.

Exactly one person owned a duplicate key to his house.

Aelin.

That’s impossible, she lives in Orynth, she can’t be here, he told the traitorous part of his brain that leapt with joy at seeing Aelin’s face again.

He turned around and made his way through the kitchen--nobody there--to the living room. He flicked on a lamp, casting a soft light around the room.

And nearly had a heart attack.

Aelin Galathynius sat on his couch.

For a moment, he just gawked at her. She looked so…different. Older. Gone was the infectious smile that had captured his heart. Dark shadows smeared under her eyes, testament both to the long hours she devoted to her work and to recent sleepless nights. She was twisting a ring on her right hand, a familiar sign of her nerves. From his angle, Rowan could see a hint of dark script on her wrist. A tattoo. The Aelin he knew didn’t have tattoos.

“I’m not a ghost.” Her voice, weary and hollow, broke the tense silence.

Rowan crossed the room, propped an arm on the fireplace. “Why?”

“Why am I here? Why did I leave? Why did I cut you out of my life?”

“Everything.” He couldn’t keep the waver from his voice, but his eyes burned into hers.

She took a steadying breath. “I’m here to apologize, first of all. I’m here to face what I ruined and to try and start mending it. I’m here to come to terms with everything I broke when I left three years ago.”

Whatever he’d expected her to say, it certainly wasn’t that.

“I’m sorry, Rowan. I’m sorry I left like that. I was…I was scared.”

“You can’t just run away from your fears, Aelin!” He couldn’t keep the frustration from his tone. “You can’t just abandon someone when you have a bad day!”

“I’m sorry! I know I shouldn’t have left! I know I can’t run from my fears; I’ve spent the last three years trying and fucking failing to do that! But I don’t know what else to do.”

“Saying something about it would have been a good first step.”

“I’m bad at emotions, Rowan. I tried. It wasn’t enough.”

“That’s not a good enough excuse.”

Aelin flicked a tear from her face. “I know.” Her shoulders slumped. “I’m so sorry, Rowan. I should never have left. I let some stupid comment root into my head and make me doubt myself. I made myself believe I would never be good enough for you. I left you. I loved you, and I still left you. I still love you, even though I’ve tried to suppress it. I can never make up for that. I…I just wanted to tell you how much I’ve regretted that horrible decision all these years. I want you to be happy, Rowan, I--”

“How am I supposed to be happy without a source?” He’d dropped onto the couch, close enough to touch her but still keeping his distance.

“What?”

“You didn’t just take yourself away, Aelin. You were my happiness. I’ve spent three fucking years trying to make myself believe I’m better without you in my life, and I can’t.”

She was unabashedly crying by that point. “What do you want me to do? How can I make up for abandoning you?”

“Stay.”

Her gaze locked onto his, both of their eyes pooling with tears.

“Stay with me, Fireheart.”

“But--”

“I never stopped loving you either.”

A choked sob ripped out of Aelin. Rowan couldn’t hold himself in check any longer; he reached out and tugged her gently into his arms. To his shock, she didn’t resist, burying her face into his chest as sobs shook her shoulders. When she calmed, he tilted her chin up.

“Will you stay, Aelin?”

“Yes. Even though I will never deserve your forgiveness, yes.”

Translations:

* = “that pinched old whore who couldn’t convince a dick to come within ten metres of her if she dressed up provocatively” (Italian)

** = loosely translated as “Fucking hell, I can’t get drunk off this garbage.” (in order, Russian (badly phonetically spelled out because Rowan POV), Spanish, German, Spanish again, French) (the Russian doesn’t directly translate, so it could mean several different variations of expletive)

Might there be a second part? Perhaps......

#my writing #rowaelin month #aaaaaangst

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scapegrace74-blog · 3 years

Text

New Ways of Turning into Stone, Chapter 6

A/N Where does the time go? I lugged my laptop 7,000km round trip with the sole intention of working on this fic, but that apparently didn’t happen. For those who found the last chapter hard to bear, I apologize in advance. I am not quite finished being cruel. With that said, trigger warning for character death, childhood disease, suicide ideation. The chapter title is Sleeping in the Clouds.

The first five chapters are available on my AO3 page.

Five Months Later

A persistent mechanical bleating lifted Claire from the indeterminate depths of medicated sleep. The emergency contact number she provided to all her patients was programmed to forward to her mobile, where a particularly aggravating ringtone ensured she would never miss a call. Even at one am on a Tuesday night.

Fumbling for the device, she glanced at the unfamiliar number before answering.

“Doctor Beauchamp speaking.” Her voice was gritty and rough. She reached for a half-filled tumbler of water while waiting for the caller to identify themselves. Over the line she could make out muted traffic noise, and perhaps a distant foghorn, but no-one spoke.

“Hello?” she inquired, torn between concern that a patient needed her and frustration that she might have been woken by a misdialed number.

“If you’re one of my patients, you need to talk to me so that I can help you.”

There was an intake of breath, a weepy sniffle, and then the click of the call being terminated. A prickle of gooseflesh washed over her. She couldn’t say exactly how, but she knew who had called, and that he needed her.

One of the grim perks of her job was that she had backdoor access to reverse look-up for telephone numbers, in cases where there was a threat of self-harm or harm to others. As Claire hastily donned socks and grabbed a winter coat, she waited on hold for the PSAP operator to provide an address.

“We’re in luck, Doctor Beauchamp. It wasna a mobile number. In fact, tis a telephone booth. Gote Lane, in Queensferry. Down near the... umm, next tae the bridge.”

Without so much as a thank you, she hung up and frantically punched the app for an Uber.

Fifteen nail biting minutes and an excessive tip later, she stood in front of an empty phone booth. Predictably, the directory had been torn out, leaving only a thin metal cord and car-key graffiti inside the cramped interior. But on top of the phone itself she found a familiar ecru business card, her name and credentials embossed in black font.

“Damn it, Jamie,” she muttered to herself, palming the card.

If he’d hung up and started walking towards the bridge, she might be able to catch him if she ran all out, but something called her towards the nearby shore instead.

The tide was out, leaving a narrow strip of beach and sharp, slimy rocks exposed to the heavy air. Her nostrils were assaulted by the briny vegetative rot of the retreating sea.

On a weathered bench facing the river, encircled by a cone of foggy streetlight, sat a man, his eyes trained on the smudgy lights of the Queensferry bridge hovering high above. Even bundled in a heavy black jacket and watch cap, she would recognize his long limbs and the set of his shoulders anywhere. She let out a long breath of relief.

She approached the bench cautiously, not certain if her presence would be welcome. Instead of turning to greet her footsteps, Jamie addressed the bridge.

“Maggie passed t’day. I called ‘cause I wanted ye tae know, but then I couldna find the words tae tell ye.” Despite his refusal to look at her, his words were calm and without a hint of the bitterness she’d expected.

“Oh, Jamie. I’m so terribly sorry. I didn’t know her well, but she was a very special little girl who loved you dearly.”

He nodded in acknowledgement of her words, but didn’t reply. She shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other, suddenly aware that she was still wearing her pajamas, her hair doubtless a veritable cumulus of tangled curls.

“Is there anything I can do?” she asked. “I still have some contacts at the hospital, I could...” she broke off, knowing it was ridiculous to offer professional assistance when she’d been the one to sever their relationship.

“Would ye, if it’s no’ too much tae ask, would ye mind jus’ sittin’ here with me fer a bit?”

He finally turned to look at her, and she could see the spider web of red veins that surrounded his irises, testimony to his heartbreak. His mouth, usually such an accurate barometer of his mood, was strangely inert. She nodded, unable to deny him such a simple request.

It was the time of night when the daytime symphony of the city broke into its component parts, every passing car, every lapping wave a single instrument singing its own plaintive song. They sat in silence for long enough that she could feel the damp creeping up the legs of her pajamas.

“Maggie loved tae cross that bridge,” Jamie said at last. “She’d lower her window, rain or shine, and stick her wee arm out, sayin’ it felt like she was flyin’.”

Claire smiled at the image, trying to picture the little girl with the giant imagination.

“What colour was her hair, Jamie?” she asked. “Was it red, like yours?”

“Nah, dark, like Jenny’s and our Da. But wi’ curls like mine and my Ma’s. A little like yours, actually, Sassenach. That is, before the chemo took it away.”

She grimaced, not knowing what topic to choose that wouldn’t lead Jamie on a path directly back to his grief.

“She fought sae hard,” he continued before she could attempt another distraction, “but the cancer wouldna let her win.” Tears were rolling down his cheeks, glinting in the sodium light like stars, but he didn’t seem to notice or care. “She was the best person I knew. Sounds strange tae say of a wee lass, but she truly was. An’ it made me a better person tae love her. What the fuck am I gonna do now?”

Jamie was looking straight at her, as though he truly expected her to offer useful guidance. All her training, her professional distance, fell away in the face of one broken man. She swallowed, searching for words that weren’t a platitude.

“You’re going to go on living, because she can’t. Because your happiness, when you are ready to feel it again, will be a gift to her memory.”

Jamie sniffed, then wiped his sleeve across his face. He placed his hand on the bench between them. Without allowing herself to think, Claire reached for it, finding his skin surprisingly warm. There was an agonizing fermata, when all the instruments held their breath, and then he turned his palm upwards to meet her own. Beneath the fog the river slipped by, blending endlessly into the sea.

"Look, Jamie, I know it’s not the right time, but I want to tell you that I’m sorry. For the way I treated you, and ended things, and...”

“Nay, Sassenach, it’s me who should apologize. I had no right tae throw my diagnosis at ye like some kinda weapon. An’ when I think of how I heedlessly brought up yer becoming a mother. I, of all people. Weel, suffice it tae say I’ve spent many an hour regretin’ my words an’ actions.”

She squeezed his hand, wordlessly declaring them equal in remorse.

“How have ye been?” he inquired, peering at her as though trying to read her state of mind on the planes of her face. She chuckled, looking away when the intensity of his gaze became too much.

“About the same, I suppose. Better some days than others. Geillis has started ordering my lunches for me, so I no longer have any excuse not to eat.” Jamie nodded, seemingly pleased with this news.

“And you? Are you still seeing Dr. Rafferty? I... uhh, I know his office requested your file.”

In fact, Giles Rafferty had called her the week after her confrontation with Jamie, wondering why his new patient’s record of treatment contained no more than his biographical details and the time and date of each of his appointments. She told him the same thing she’d told Geillis when she asked the same question in significantly cruder terms: that her weekly interactions with Jamie had never led to a professional diagnosis or a recommended course of treatment.

“Aye. He’s a good man, although tragically immune tae my charms. Unlike some.”

“Don’t flatter yourself, Fraser,” she warned, although his rakish grin warmed her from the inside out.

“I’ll be darkening his doorway wi’ some frequency, after t’day,” he continued with a return to solemnity.

And yet you called me, Claire wanted to say, but didn’t. When his beloved niece had slipped away, hers had been the number he had dialed, despite everything. The very idea made her thoughts flit about like fireflies.

“I missed ye, Sassenach,” he confessed quietly after a time.

“I missed you too, Jamie.”

They sat together through the thin hours of the night, talking, sharing memories of Maggie, but mostly in silent companionship. As dawn brightened the eastern sky, the fog began to lift, revealing an overcast sky. The lights of the bridge blinked out, and the city’s music began anew. Claire wished futilely that day would never break, knowing that it would bring them both the pain of two very different kinds of goodbye.

Her hand, when Jamie finally let it go, felt strange, as though it had been separated from its source. She tucked it quickly into her pocket.

“I.. errr, I need tae be goin’,” Jamie said by way of apology. “Ian and Jenn will be needin’ me.”

“Yes, of course. I’ll just, um, call myself an Uber.”

They were both standing, neither seemingly knowing how to part.

Jamie opened his mouth, paused, shook his head in frustration, then looked away. Her traitorous hand escaped her pocket and found its way to his chest.

“I’ll be thinking of you. All of you. If there’s anything, anything at all..”

“How long until your no’ my doctor anymore? Ethically speakin’.” He was looking at her in a way that made the fireflies whirlpool about.

“What?” she asked to buy herself some time to breath.

“Before I go an’ face everything that is wrong about t’day, I want tae ken, how long must I wait before I can kiss ye again wi’out riskin’ yer reputation?”

“There’s no written timetable,” she stalled. “It’s a question of a doctor exerting undue influence or the exploitation of the patient’s trust, and there’s really...”

“Those rules are meant tae protect the patient, aye? So I should be allowed tae waive them, no’?”

“Jamie...”

“Fine, let me rephrase my question. Doctor Claire Beauchamp, when can I, James Fraser, ask ye tae look upon me as a potential suitor and no’ a former patient? Six months? A year? Two years?”

“You really are the most infuriatingly stubborn man,” she huffed.

“Aye, I ken. Sae, two years? Do we have an agreement, Sassenach?”

“Fine, yes, two years, but Jamie, I don’t expect you to...”

A finger was placed across her lips, silencing her protests.

“Two years are naught if I can kiss ye again once they have passed. Until then, Claire, please take care of yerself.”

She stood by the bench long after Jamie was gone, staring out across the river. A flock of geese flew by in formation, broad wings nearly touching the surface of the water as it reflected the steel gray clouds above. She thought of little Maggie, and her birdhouse surrounded by clouds. A sob wrestled its way up her throat, surprising in its urgency. And then, she allowed herself to cry.

#my writing #outlander

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emptymasks · 3 years

Note

I’ve seen a lot about your thoughts on Elisabeth and Tanz der Vampire, and they’ve been really helpful getting into those musicals! But you have a huge list of other musicals that people can get into…

So I was wondering if you had any musicals you hadn’t mentioned in a while that you really like or would like to talk about??? (preferably something from your lists that has a blue heart please?)

Oh if only you knew how long the list of European musicals really is... I however have only seen 9 (if I counted right) and I have a lot more that I still need to watch. Oh also, I only put the blue hearts on any musicals that I was providing multiple links for so people could see which version I reccoment the most highly. If a musical only had one link and didn't have a blue heart it doesn't mean I didn't like it.

I've watched: Mozart das Musical, Elisabeth das Musical, Tanz der Vampire, 3 Musketiers, Mozart L'Opéra Rock, Dracula (the Graz production), Rebecca das Musical, Roméo et Juliette and Schikaneder.

If you enjoyed those two you're likely to enjoy Rebecca! It's written by the same composer/lyricist team as Elisabeth and Mozart (and same lyricist as Tanz der Vampire - though if you're listening to any German musical, original or translated, 90% of the time the lyrics will have been done by Michael Kunze that man is everywhere). The Stuttgart production has my favourite set design of any musical! Well... Actually probably. There are so many big set pieces it's insane, way more than I've seen in some Broadway and West End musicals. You can tell so much work went into it and the visual effects that I won't spoil if you don't know the plot but if you know the plot you know what I mean by the effects at the end are so good and I didn't expect them at all and I freaked out so much the first time I watched it. Jan Ammann as Maxim in the Stuttgart production is the best Maxim. No I won't take any argument. Other actors feel a bit one-dimensional to me, but the way Maxim acts at times comes from trauma and some actors and productions seem to forget that, but Jan really goes for it and his Maxim is a lot more sympathetic and I just want to give him a hug. Pia Douwes as Mrs Danvers, if you've seen her in Elisabeth what more do I need to say, she's amazing. A musical goddess. Her Danny is a bit more wild than some, but she kills it. My favourite video, which I put the blue heart next to, has understudy Christina Patten as Ich/I, but I adore her she's my favourite. She adds some spunk to Ich in act 2 and her voice is so pretty and aaaa. I just love these three actors together in these roles.

Roméo et Juliette is another favourite of mine! It's hard to choose which one to recommend, but it has to be the original 2000/2001 production because of the sweetness and chemistry and voices of Damien Sargue and Cecilia Cara as Romeo and Juliet. They're so pretty and work together so well. The only reason I say it's hard to pick is Mercutio. I adore him, but in the original production they cut out a song they had planned for him and he doesn't really do much at all? In the 2010 revival they gave him two more songs and you care about him so much more and John Eyzen plays such a good Mercutio. So I'd recommend the original but if you want to like Mercutio more, which you should he's amazing, I'd recommend watching at least clips of John's. It's an interesting musical because all productions are non-replica and also change around the order of songs, add or take away characters, all sorts. The Hungarian production is also very popular and I'm sure it's great, I just haven't' gotten around to watching it yet.

Mozart das Musical was the first non-English language musicals I watched so I have a fondness for it, but it's not my favourite. However, I do realise I have forgotten most of the songs and the few I've gone back and listened to are better than I remember.

Dracula isn't super popular and I understand why, I don't love the plot of the Dracula/Mina romance in it, however. I do love this musical because despite how I find the plot lacking, the songs are so good! At least, I love them. And the actors are all doing a great job. And it's one of the few Dracula adaptions to keep Quincy Morris so they get bonus points for that.

Mozart L'Opéra Rock and modern French musicals... This isn't necessarily a bad thing, but they're often more like pop-rock operas now. So if you're not into musicals with that style of music it might not be for you, but I still enjoyed it even though I didn't think I would because of the style of music. Mozart and Salieri's chemistry is very good, Salieri's bisexual crisis song is iconic, actually all of Salieri's songs are iconic.

Schikaneder... eh. I didn't like it that much and I didn't really like any of the songs. There's no English subtitles, but someone sent me the entire English synopsis and I watched it with a German friend so I had double the help of understanding it. Doesn't mean others might not like it, just none of the songs stood out to me and I had no desire to listen to any of them again. It's by Steven Scharwz of Wicked fame and I love Wicked, but I didn't love this.

3 Musketiers!! God it's so underrated and not spoken about within the European musical fandom that I even forget about it and literally forgot to write about it earlier in this post. It's a Dutch musical (though did also have a German production) and it's really good!? Faces you might know are Pia Douwes as Milady de Winter, Stanley Burlseon as Cardinal Richeliu (Netherlands Der Tod in Elisabeth), Henk Poort as Athos (Netherlands Phantom and Jean Valjean). The dialgoue is funny, the songs are good, some of the set pieces have no right to exist in this tiny musical?? They made this giant boat and pelt the actors with rain just for one 5 minute song and then we never see the boat again? And while I recommend the Dutch one because Dutch musicals deserve more love and it has official English subtitles!! Official ones, not fanmade! I have the DVD and it comes with English subtitles (and Dutch and German subtitles) which is so nice. The German version is also good, good cast, Pia came back and Uwe Kroger as Richeliu and omg they rearranged the songs and the German arrangement of Nicht Aus Stein is insane and amazing and frankly iconic.

That's all of the ones I have watched. Next on my list to watch are Rudolf and Notre Dame de Paris, both of which I have listened to some songs from and already love (I've listened to way too much of Notre Dame de Paris and am so in love).

I want to start organising streams where I'll host the musical either by getting the video from Youtube or my own files and anyone who wants to join can come along and watch with us, chat with us if you want or just watch there's no pressure to chat. I thought about doing weekly streams? This would also make me finally watch some of the ones I've been meaning to for ages. But I keep wondering about time zones. I'm in the UK and would want to stream at about 11pm at the latest (11pm BST/GMT+1 as we’re in daylight savings at the moment, if the streams continue past the end of October which would be wild then I’ll make a note of the time change that would be to 11pm GMT), which I know can work for other UK and Europeans, but for any Americans would be in the afternoon. So, I wondered if doing it on a weekend would be better? Then it doesn't matter if it's in the afternoon? Maybe Saturday evenings then? It would either be Saturday evenings UK time or Friday evenings UK time. What do you guys think? If people are down then I'll make a separate post with a list of what we'll be watching each week and if anything happens to me that means I can't stream one week then everything will just get pushed back a week, but I don't see that as likely to happen. And I'll only be streaming those that have English subtitles, so don't worry about not being able to understand anything.

edit: am also open to 10pm bst if others want that, im just trying to think of what time works best for everyone so sorry if 11pm is a little late for europeans, i know 10pm could be a little early for americans. also in case it sounded like these are the only musicals i will be streaming, thats not so, ive got more than just the ones mentioned on this list!

(Tagging some people who I know are or might be interested in streams to see what you think of that plan: @sirona-art @ringwraith100 @tanz-der-trash @smilingwoland @the-weird-dane @witchgaye @ami-fidele @kisstheghouls @looking-4-happiness @ladysapphire928 @sloanedestler @tinywound @persephonaae @phoenixdewinter @uwucoffee @freshbloodandgothicism )

#european musicals #mozart das musical #3 musketiers #dracula the musical #retj #romeo et juliette #mozart l'opera rock #mozart l'opéra rock #musical theatre #musicals #broadway #musicaledit #rebecca das musical #rebecca the musical #answeredasks #non english language musicals

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mejomonster · 2 years

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Ice Fantasy

me too girl.

also it is the funniest thing to me the second she sees him on the riverside her voice is gentler and more conversational. then later when she tells him well be my slave until you remember, she’s still more gentle and conversational. its just like a little thread indicating she probably wants to be a relatively friendly flirty warm person but when she’s working (like when she thinks she’s handling Ice Kingdom, or Fire Kingdom fellow soldiers) she puts on a much tougher/crueler act (either because they’re an enemy or she feels she needs to be seen that way to be respected/for people to believe she can handle things). her voice just gets... so much softer and lighter and she starts smiling like ah yes This warmth is how she’d like to talk to neutral strangers IF she ever got the chance so now she’s doing it with hottie mcstranger she found lying in the river ToT

i really like their dynamic. i mean i’m already biased towards women in charge, servant boy following her, AND secret identities, so i’m kind of a sucker anyway. but their characters also just work really well off each other - he knows she’s suddenly less hostile and so he’s acting a lot more manipulative about ‘oh i could say anything right now’ which i imagine is going to help evolve his character into what looks to be a schemer later in the series. its also giving him a chance to learn to stop acting so straightforward/get yourself killed like he was before, and practice some cleverness like his older brother likes to (although in a different way). also since she is relatively warm, he’s teasing her ToT. which to be honest with a woman like her who needs to be tough all the time its probably nice to have someone look at you and say their mom is prettier, you’re being silly, and not have to worry you having been ridiculous/playing is going to get you killed. I can already see how their dynamic together would eventually lead to them becoming best friends.

Speaking of new friends:

Their dynamic is EXTREMELY Shen Wei/Kunlun (Zhao Yunlan). Li Luo reminds me of Guardian drama Kunlun’s potential SO much. She’s got 2 guns that can hurt gods, is the most skilled Guardian Envoy, she’s taking care of this silent duty bound prince who has a responsibility to his country and world but is TORN UP worried for his little brother. And she looks out for him even though he thinks her way of doing it doesn’t follow the rules. Her energy is AMAZING and I already love Li Luo with my whole heart.

(On a separate note I am again disappointed with Eternal Love’s overall handling of women and women warriors, this show managed to show both very feminine maternal mothers who mainly specialize in domestic affairs AND a wife who kills to try and save her loved ones and Li Luo the leader of the Guardian Envoys AND Yan Da above the most Interesting character of the Fire Kingdom and a key Princess Warrior, and Ying Kong Shi’s mom Lotus who’s clearly got a lot of shit going on in her life that’s hidden under secrets and royal pressures, the Mermaid Princess and Mermaid Saint who had political influence on the story outcome Already... just like I am only on episode 6 and already I’ve seen more women in battles than I did in all of Eternal Love, more women get to rescue men or fight for them/against them, get to be the protector, in Yan Da’s case get to be the dominant playful flirt, their actions and words clearly carry weight in this show and if you’re GOING to have a cast with lots of women and men then yeah I expect this level of range and good writing for the women too. Love and Redemption does a decent job at accomplishing this too (one reason its my favorite romance xianxia), Eternal Love absolutely did not (Bai Qian gets the most fighting scenes but even then at the finale she’s put out of commission and doesn’t get to fight the Final Bad Guy herself, Fengjiu arguably gets the most equal relationship with her love as far as making choices but as a fighter she’s just not that kind of strong trained character the way Bai Qian is, and the Demon Princess is wonderful but again she’s stuck kind of in this domestic-nurturing category and for the most part no one gets to branch out much except the villains - still in domestic spheres/regarding their love pursuits though - and Bai Qian (and when she branches out, just as often the writing made her a damsel which at the finale of the story was ultimately my breaking point ;-; ).

Li Luo is phenomenal, serious, friendly, playful, competent, a protector, and she reminds me SO much of Zhao Yunlan when he’s at his most leader-esque or when protecting Shen Wei physically and emotionally by getting him to feel safe and understood and part of the world. I find it impossible to do anything but love her (and I love that so far this show’s given me two leading women I absolutely LOVE both the character setups for and the actual acting/execution of these characters - last time a show gave me leading women that specifically hit the kinds of things I prefer this much was Secret Of The Three Kingdoms with an Empress scheming orchestrator of the country and a widow-princess who’s become a cold assassin).

And Ka Suo? Reminds me SO much of Shen Wei. The way he has a duty to his brother, country, world - but unlike Shen Wei he’s ALREADY seen how hard the duty was on his father, how much it destroys one’s humanity and personal values, and Ka Suo just wants to fly away like a bird and have his own life (much like I think Shen Wei desperately feels trapped in his duties as the Envoy and all the responsibility he has to the world over even his brother or his own values later on). Ka Suo is the heir, and unlike Shen Wei he is trying so hard to keep balance and at LEAST keep his little brother even if Ka Suo doesn’t have control over the duties he must also handle because the whole Ice Kingdom needs him. I love that he’s playful and curious and likes to learn (very Shen Wei) as seen by how he used to talk to Li Luo and his brother, I love that he’s overwhelmed by worry now and duty and trying his best to be perfect at all things somehow (again VERY Shen Wei). Ka Suo is sort of a mix in vibes of young Shen Wei and 10k years later - Ka Suo still has some hope, is clinging to the idea of getting to stay with his brother alive, does seem to get emotional support and relief from someone (Li Luo) treating him like another ordinary equal, is a fish out of water immortal in a mortal world (Shen Wei my mutant love dealing with Humanity), but is also so bound up in duty and responsibility AND all the death that’s already occured he is definitely holding himself together tightly with everything he’s got right now (very 10k years into present Shen Wei).

Ka Suo and Ying Kong Shi remind me of like. Shen Wei and Ye Zun if they’d never been separated young. Also, there’s parent dynamics at play creating inequality in a way (whereas in Guardian the inequality was Shen Wei being propped up as a war hero/leader and Ye Zun being villainized as an enemy and slave). Like Ye Zun, Ying Kong Shi has ‘no powers’ and when they eventually come out its due to how much he cares about his brother, and its uncontrollable and dangerous and kills. Like Ye Zun, Ying Kong Shi has the suckier power dynamic - he’s the smallest youngest prince with no political future, no powers so regular civilian kids bully him, his mother is the concubine and not the queen like all his other siblings, his mother clearly doesn’t love the king (there’s some not-great something going on there) and is treated slightly less well than the Queen (which extends to her son), the only person with POWER that really favors Ying Kong Shi is his older brother Ka Suo who considers him his dearest brother and a best friend. Its no wonder Ying Kong Shi idealistically promises his brother “I’ll help you not be king and become free like the birds.” Its not surprising when Ying Kong Shi kills the Fire Prince, he wants to be punished or die instead of the older brother he loves who he KNOWS would do anything to protect him. Its not surprising saving his brother is what triggers his powers and causes his first kill. Unlike Ye Zun though, Ying Kong Shi’s close long term upbringing with his brother means he WANTS to believe in goodness in people and in heroism (whereas Ye Zun after being separated thinks all people will do is harm you and others so no cause/person is worth protecting - except maybe your brother you love and miss, or getting revenge on him if you can no longer have his love).

So when everything hits the fan, Ying Kong Shi’s dad tries to give him to the enemy to BE KILLED as a trade!! Which is horrific! And despite even THAT totally fucked up situation, afterwards Ying Kong Shi offers to die to get a sword to save everyone - because he believes in being noble like his brother, and his dad JUST reinforced how worthless Ying Kong Shi is seen as, Ying Kong Shi JUST killed someone as a child and is clearly coping with guilt badly by thinking he deserves to die too. And so that is an action I don’t think Ye Zun would’ve made, but since Ying Kong Shi has his brother’s influence he’s got more idealism that I’m assuming the story will break down to make him get a more realistic understanding of the world over time. As it stands this kid is SO good, so kind, his brother raised him to be Such a good wonderful person. And this kid does not deserve how fucked up his own father and country treats him, and it really is him and Ka Suo against the world on a personal level.

Unrelated note but I find it extremely odd this show often has Ying Kong Shi just called “Shi” by people. I’m not sure if they’re saying “A-Shi” each time but I don’t think I’m hearing an Ah before the name. I thought it was usually 2 syllables said when saying someone’s name (like how Zhao Yunlan is at least called A-Lan or Yunlan and never just Lan, like how Wei Wuxian is called A-Xian by his sister but never just Xian). But like... everyone just keeps saying Shi to this boy. I’m not sure if like I said, I’m just not hearing the Ah before the name, or if this show/writing purposely calls him Just Shi.

#liveblog #ice fantasy #ice fantasy lb #well jurys in folks i LOVE this show already i binged 5 eps last night #meta

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catsplushellhounds · 3 years

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favorite headcanons (and theorys?) of glee that i created

i was thinking if i really was going to write this, but im bored so lets go, this got so long and i am so sorry (not really it was fun and i liked it, if you like big metas you probably gonna like this)

*this can have some triggers for some people because i will be talking about bullying, abandonment, depression and violence*

(also i would like to say that most of this are things that i like to believe happened, and idk if the rest of the fandom agrees or if someone said it before and this is all blaine related, i left it glee on the title because it sounded better idk)

- blaine's dad is filipino and he left after blaine came out

i know that blaine said he was there in shooting stars, but hear me out

first of all, to me his name is tod anderson, dont ask me why it just makes sense and i like how it sounds.... so

in sexy, blaine tells burt that his dad tried many times bonding with him, but apparently that didnt work, because he also says "you think my dad built a car with me because he loves cars? i think he did it because he thought getting my hands dirty might make me straight." and after 4x18, he is never mentioned again? and he wasnt on his son's wedding too

so my theory here is that he never accepted that blaine is gay, and all of his "efforts of bonding" were actually because he thought he could "fix" blaine, and when that didnt worked he left, (that also explains blaine's abandonment issues) but he did came back im the shooting episode because he felt guilty for what he did, but after he saw it was a false alarme he went back on pretending he didnt have a gay son

to be really honest sometimes i pretend that his dad wasnt on the shooting day because i feel that it doesnt fit that well into this and i really like this one because its kinda obvious to me that blaine have daddy issues??? so usually i just put on my character-backstory that blaines dad left after he came out and never came back

for the first year that he was gone, blaine spended every night trying to contact him. sometimes he just texted, but most of the times he called and left a message crying begging him to come back and tell him what he'd done that made his father hate him so much, his dad never called or texted back

- blaine's parents

(im not sure if this is canon but blaine's mom is named pam)

i know that technically i've already talked about blaine's family when i was talking about his dad but that is so complex i felt i had to do a topic exclusive for that

i believe blaine has and always had a good relationship with his mother, yes she was usually gone because she works selling a really famous cosmetic line she created (to me the andersons are a really known name) that would explain how blaine could study in a school like dalton (he said so himself that dalton isnt a school that anyone could afford), and why she is never there

but despite her being busy with her job, she always tried to keep im touch with blaine, texting him, and calling and skyping

blaine always missed her, but he tried to not make her feel guilty about working too much, because she loves her job

sometimes he got really depressed, because he wished she could be there to see him sing with his friends, or just be there so that he could hang out with his mom like all of his friends did with their parents

his das was a businessman, i dont know why it just fits to me, also idk what kind of business because i dont understand any of it so thats up to imagination

before he came out, he and his dad were super close, sure his dad a lot of the time was busy but he was at home more than his mom, his dad was the one that introduced him to liking sports, and they always watched games together (cooper would join in too) and his dad always let him have a sip of his beer, blaine always loved those moments and his dad was like a hero to him, he was sure that coming out to him would be easy, because he would love him no matter what

all of the andersons have always been brodway babys, all 4 of them liked to sing, tod was a little bit more serious and didnt dance around the house like cooper, blaine and pam but he enjoyed seeing them having fun

the andersons were like the perfect family of the neirbourhood, all 4 of them are very good looking, talented and educated so yes everybody thought they were perfect

they all lived in the philippines until blaine was 5, and then moved to ohio because tod got a really good job offer there

after blaine came out, his parents argued A LOT. tod would ask himself and pam of what he had done wrong and pam would say its nobodys fault and thats just how blaine is

(to me that was the time tod was revealed to be an asshole and not long after he divorced pam and stoped talking to all of them, except for cooper, he and cooper still talked)

- blaine's bullying

the bullying blaine went through was a lot like kurt's, people laughing at him, shoving him around, beating him up, etc

he tried putting a brave face through it but he started losing all of his light, even more when all of his complains didnt matter at all

it only got sort of better when he met skylar (thats the kid he went to sadie hawkings with, i read in a fic that was his name and stuck with me so im calling him skylar)

skylar was going through the same thing he was, and one time blaine saw him getting shoved at lockers, and helped him pick up his books and thats were they started talking

maybe they liked each other, they never got to find out because after the bash, skylar never spoke to blaine again

blaine was in a 2 week coma after getting beat up, and the first thing he said when he woke up was "where's my dad" and his mom had to gently tell him his das was not there. that was when blaine realized he actually meant nothing to his dad and that broken him even more

he was bashed about 3 months after his father left him, and for the rest of that school year he was homeschooled by a teacher his mother hired

- blaine joining dalton and the warblers

so, since blaine is a year younger than kurt, in my head goes sorta of like this

he came out when he was 13, that was the time he was bullied, beaten up abandoned and homeschooled, and he joined dalton when he was 14, but to be a warbler he had to be a little older than that, so he had to audition to join (im guessing you dont have to audition to be a warbler, just to have a lead, i mean kurt didnt auditioned, right?) and and trent auditioned together, they became friends and were roomates (dalton is a boarding school DONT @ ME EVERYBODY KNOWS ITS TRUE)

it took blaine a while to take the step to audition, because he was still scared, but wes and david helped him and gave him a little seed of the confidence he pretends to have later on, but when he sang for the warblers for the first time they were all blowed away by how good was his singing voice even if he was only 14

after he felt comfortable in the warblers, he became friends with nick and jeff, and they were a trio of dumbassess, wes and david (usually the most mature of all the warblers) sighed everytime they saw nick, jeff and blaine doing something stupid

trent joined in sometimes but he always had been a really chill dude, and he saw blaine as a older brother (even tho blaine is younger than him)

jeff, nick and blaine pulled pranks on wes and david like hiding stuff from them and act all inocent when they asked if they saw said thing

the warblers had a bet going on how long would it take for kurt and blaine to start dating (and yes all of them shipped klaine, and even after kurt and blaine went to mckinley the warblers still kept hearing about them and seeing them on jacob ben israel's blog)

jeff, nick, trent, wes and david were the only real friends blaine had there

wes and david has already gratuated when the slushie happened, and nick, jeff and trent all apologized to blaine after that (even though they had no idea that was gonna happen) but their friendship was never the same

- blaine and cooper's relationship

as we know, blaine and cooper didnt got very along when blaine was growing up, cooper is 9 years older than blaine, and has always been really hard on him and thaat made blaine really dislike cooper, even tho he really wanted for them to be friends, he always has bitter feelings towards him duo to all of the pressure and expectation he was under because cooper was the oldest, and blaine felt like he had to be just as good or better than him, so he also had a lot A LOT of jealousy

but that started to change after "big brother", when they talk things out, cooper finally realizes how blaine feels, and starts doing his best to be best brother to blaine

they dont become besties immediatly, blaine helps him with his audition (which makes kurt really proud and happy seeing cooper being all excited talking to blaine, while blaine is trying to pretend like hes cool but actually hes just as excited), and they start to talk more and more after that

after finn dies is when they start getting actually close, after the funeral, he calls cooper but dosent say the reason why, he just says that he loves him and that he misses his big brother, they call and talk to each other a lot more after cooper finds out about finn

when cooper has a son, he and blaine teach the little guy how to dance and they play a lot of happy and fun piano songs to him

- the anderhummel family

blaine and burt are actually really close, they both like sports and beer so they watch games together and bet about whos gonna win, burt sorta of became the dad blaine lost, but in a non weird way, because they both agreed that blaine calling burt "dad" after he married kurt was just... weird

finn and blaine played a lot of videogames together, sam and puck played with them too, but when kurt was helping on dinner or more interested in a magazine or trying to convince carole to let him do a makeover on her, finn and blaine played videogames and maybe sometimes gossip about kurt and rachel (after he became besties with sam he did that same thing but hey playing videogames and talking about your s/o is fun!)

carole took care of blaine when he was in the hospital for the eye surgery, and when he was hangover at kurt's after biota she helped him with all the vomiting and headaches and all of that

pam met carole and burt when blaine got slushied, blaine was already like family to the hudson-hummels at that point, so when burt found out what happened he ran to the hospital, (carole was already working there anyway) and thats where they met, it wasnt ideal and all of them wete stressed and worried but they got along pretty well

pam, burt and carole werent really close since pam was usually out working, but the few times they sat down to talk to each other they really liked. pam thinks burt and carole are a sweet couple, that raised two wondeful boys and burt and carole think that pam is a sweet and funny lady, they all exchanged embarassing stories about kurt and blaine (that made them go "MOM DONT TELL THEM THAT" or "DAS STOP I WAS 7")

pam absolutely adores kurt, he was fascinated when he found out she had a line of cosmetics and spended hours talking to her about skincare routines

blaine can always make carole laugh, she thinks hes a sweetheart and usually keeps burt from bursting into the room when the door of kurts bedroom is closed ("i told them already, leave at least 2 inches open, is that really so hard??" "honey, relax they're just watching a movie" "im going in there" "no you're not leave the boys alone")

burt has walked in a few times on klaine making out on the couch and he always makes a joke about it to not make it awkward

burt was thrillled to know he was gonna be a grandpa, and he spoils tracy anderson to OBLIVION (blaine doesnt argues because he sorta of does the same thing)

even after both breakups, burt and blaine had always kept in touch, maybe it wasnt what it used to be when he and kurt were still mad at each other, but once they go back being friends, blaine is a little more comfortable in hangin out with the hudson-family

- blaine's depression in s6

i think is canon thay blaine had depression and anxiety during the whole show, right? it just got worse in s6 because kurt breaking up with him was sort of what pulled the trigger

it begun when his father neglected him, and it only got worse and worse, he was abandoned by his father and sometimes felt like by his mother and brother too, he had anxiety and it got worse after sadie hawkings, then kurt and him broke up for the first time, and he kept bottling it all up until it all reached the boiling point and it all exploded when kurt broke up with him

(side note, i think that when kurt started pulling away from him in s6, it reminded him of his dad pulling away too, his dad tried to bond with him but i feel that as harder blaine tried to make his dad stay, didnt matter and his dad kept pulling away until he was gone, that makes a parallel to s6 breakup, and why blaine was trying so SO hard to make kurt stay, because he had been there before, and he wasnt good enough for his dad, and he really wanted to be good enough for kurt)

so, after they breakup, blaine stays in a cheap hotel, not getting out of bed and feeling empty inside, his phone buzzed a little with missing calls from his friends but at some point the batery died and he just ignored, he only charged after 2 days because he probably had to let people know he's still alive

he went back to the loft in the afternoon, because he knew kurt wouldn't be there, he was going away and leaving nothing behind when kurt showed up, blaine was kinda of embarassed because he was probably stinking and his hair and clothes were a mess

im not sure if they talked at all after the breakup night, but i kinda feel that blaine might have said to kurt something like "you think i'm broken? when are gonna realize the problem here isnt just me? i should have known, everytime things get serious and scary between us you run, you're so afraid of something and honestly i have no idea of what, please just stay away from me" (i dont knooow he was angry and being all cold to kurt and shit i think that happened and maybe thats what made kurt go to therapy)

he got kicked out of nyada because he didnt left his hotel room for anything other than food, and he felt even more lost after receiving the email saying he was no longer a student there, thats when he decided to go back to lima

in lima, he barely left his room, he didnt ate for days and when he wasnt crying he was sleeping, his friends would call, text and sometimes try to visit him but he never texted back, answered the calls or opened the doors for them, sam was the only one that had some success because he was living in lima too and could go to blaine's house more often, sometimes he got lucky and blaine would open the door for him

at first he tried to do pep talks to help his bestie get better, but nothing helped so at one point he just sat there with blaine and did nothing with him, because at least like that he wouldnt be alone

one day blaine felt a little better and started trying to be okay again, it was never easy but he got a job at breadsticks, and even tho he would much rather be in his bed he kept working because at least like that his mind was busy with something

after he started therapy, he still felt empty inside, the world was still sorta of grey to him and he didnt felt like doing anything, so he had to take meds for that, and kept taking them even after kurt cane back (but as blaine was getting better they slowly became less and less needed)

when blaine started working at dalton, he was already in a much better place that he was when he came back, and throughout s6 he was still battling depression, and wasnt always okay, sometimes he would still want to just be alone and dont talk to anybody or do anything, and if that happened when he was surronded with people he would just be more quiet, that sometimes got rachel and kurt's attention, because they're not used to this "new" blaine and when they asked him if he was doing okay he would just say "yeah, im just tired" sam later on explained to them what that usually meant, it meant that blaine needed some alone time because he was draining himself a lot

- blaine at nyada vs blaine at nyu

soooo i have a good theory about this one, at nyada blaine was constantly surronded by people who would probably kill someone to get at the top, to be the best

and was such a competitive place, that ended up being toxic for blaine. i used to think that he didnt fit there because he always was one of the best in show choir and dalton and he was always *that* guy, but now i think he didnt fit there because actually he dosent like competition that much

okay, sure, playful competiton with your friends its fun, show choir competiton is fun, fighting with tina, mercedes, rachel, santana and unique about solos was fun because it was serious but he was with his friends so okay, whatever

but the competition they had at nyada was just SO MUCH, and lets agree nyada is kinda of a toxic place in general, people made fun of kurts face and clothing there, rachel's "friends" ditched her when she lost the diva off to kurt and started kissing up to him, and (im not sure about this one but like 99%) people laughed when blaine lost to kurt at combat's class

my point is, in nyada, people only like you if you do well in classes, there's a lot of lying and backstabbing going on and c'mon blaine pratically grew up like this with cooper

always not good enough, always behind, always made fun of, never being great at anything, so maybe thats why blaine felt so stressed at nyada, and why he gets so insecure in 5x16, seeing kurt being praised and getting all of that attention might have reminded him of the years he and cooper didnt get along so well

he didnt found himself at nyada, mostly he was there because it was said to be the best school and rachel and kurt were there, so great, right?

but i get the feeling that at nyu things were a little lighter, not easier, but lighter, it didnt had so much toxic people, it wasnt a place where it was kill or be killed, people helped each other when needed and yes there was still competition, obviously but (almost) nobody made fun of people for failing

(i said almost there because im sure there was some douchbags there too, they're everywhere, but i hope you got my point)

- blaine's friendships

i am almost done i am so sorry this is so long i've been here for like 2 hours

i have some small headcanons about blaine's friends, because we did NOT get enough of his friendships (im leaving kurt out of this one because maybe one day ill do a meta/hc/theory about klaine....... maybe)

mike and blaine were besties on s3

they both like to dance and sometimes they+brittany would do a dance number together, sometimes for the glee club to see, sometimes only to themselves because thats fun

mike talked with blaine after the its not right but its okay number to see what happened and if he was okay (actually it was mostly blaine just venting about it "AND THEN HE SAID HE WANTED TO MAKE KURTS VOICE HIS RINGTONE I MEAN WHAT THE FUCK????????")

blaine talked to mike about mike's dad because he knew what mike was going through and they both agreed thay family sucks sometimes

after mike graduated he and blaine kept têxtil each other and sometimes sending gifs or videos of dance moves to each other

santana and blaine were actually really good friends

after the glee club found out about what santana's grandmother had done when she came out, when they were alone blaine told santana about his dad, even tho he was afraid she was gonna tell everyone because he doesnt like talking about it, just so that she would know that shes not alone and its not her fault, santana never once teased or told anyone about this, she always sorta of liked him and thought he was nice but that moment she started seeing him as a friend

while preparing for the new directions vs warblers in 3x11, santana tried helping blaine bring out his inner bad boy, she helped him pick his outfit and they planned together the whole performance

(im stealing this one from a post i rebloged i guess a day ago? i didnt found the blog to tag but this is the post) > santana and blaine are friends on facebook, and follow each other on twitter and instagram, and they always spam on each others profiles because they're comfortable to do that with each other

santana kinda sees blaine as a male version of brittany, so she has this need of protecting him (which is kinda why she was super invested in getting him justice for his eye)

speaking of his eye, when he was at home before surgery, santana went there and told that she was gonna make sebastian confess what he'd put on thr slushie, blaine asked her how she knew where she lived but she cut him off, she also came back there after and told him everything, and she and kurt asked him what he wanted to do about it

brittany and blaine really were sunshine twins

they always liked each other, blaine didnt get her at first, but he got used to it

she always talked to him about cats, and what lord tubbington was up to, she tried inviting him to fondue for 2 but he knew that she would ask some really private questions so he always came up with an excuse

after he almost went back to dalton, she (alongside with tina, sam and marley) tried to make him feel as welcome as possible

when she was dating sam, sometimes the three of them would go to her house after school and cuddle in her bed with lord tubbington while watching a movie

when britt was planning their weddings, she asked blaine to try up some suits (with the excuse that she wasnt sure the one she picked was right), but she asked him that like a day after he kissed kurt at rachels party so she could tell he was kinda sad and asked him why, he told her and she said it was gonna be okay because their love was magical (it was weird but it did made blaine feel good, so...) she was also the only person he told that

blaine and britt always have ideas like "we should totally put glitter in the entire room to celebrate our wedding aniversary!" kurt and santana shut down the idea at the same time

blamtina were like 3 chaotic brothers

sam and blaine would have a dumb idea that would result in absolute chaos (but funny tho) and tina always plays along with them even if she thinks its a bad idea

the three of them are completely harry potter nerds, sam and blaine are hufflepuffs while tina is a ravenclaw, in a halloween party in s4 they went as the golden trio

after graduation, sam and blaine still skyped tina and told her all about ny, and she would tell them all about her collage

sam kept his promise of sending his imitations to tina and blaine sometimes would call her to vent about a fight he and kurt had

blaine read all of the harry potter books to sam

after sam talked blaine into staying at mckinley, sam and tina would always be with blaine, always talking to him, and spending time with him, thats how the 3 of them got so close

marley and blaine were good friends

when marley joined the new directions, blaine was one of the first to make her feel welcome

when blaine almost left for dalton, she tried make him see that she liked him in the nd too, and would randomly start talking to him so that he wouldnt feel alone

she would rant about jake to him sometimes, like how he wanted to have sex but she wasnt ready, and blaine told her she should do it only when she felt comfortable

after she got suspended, he apologized for yelling at her because of the performance, and remembered mr schue that she was recovering from an eating desorder and that he shouldnt be so hard at her

unique and blaine were "frenemies"

they started off not liking each other, since they both wanted it to be the new rachel, even after blaine won, he and unique still were kinda competitive with each other

but eventually they became sort-of-friends, they sang together sometimes when no one else was there, and they liked to pretend to not like each other but yes they did and it was just their thing

sometimes marley would do a sleepover and she would call blaine, unique and tina, while marley was talking about jake or tina was talking about missing mike, blaine would braid unique's wig and she would try to convince him to let her see his hair without gel

when the whole plot of unique and the bathroom happened, when mr schue told everyone he couldnt give up twerking, blaine stood up for unique saying that wasnt fair and mr schue should try harder to help her, he also held her hand (alongside with marley) when she was scared of having to go to the bathroom again

blaine and mercedes talked to each other more than twice :O

lol ok im not sorry for that title

mercedes and blaine LIVED together people, she used to be kurts best friend, and sams girlfriend are you telling me they barely talked to each other? no

in fact, they really like each other's company, blaine is kinda of a goofball and mercedes thinks its funny

he would ask her to talk to sam when blaine wanted something from him, and mercedes did the same with kurt

sam and blaine would do stupid things together (like dance around their house in their underwear) just to make mercedes laugh, they swore to never tell anyone, and they never did

sometimes at 3 am when no one could sleep they would all have a little dance party until they got tired

blaine and mercedes are junky food addicts, they eat healthy and stuff but they love some cake at 5 in the morning

one time when kurt and mercedes were arguing about the tots, blaine sided with mercedes and told her he agreed that tots are delicious

#ok i think thats it #if you read it until the end.... are you okay?#i had some more but i want to post this today and i want to go to sleep so lets leave it like that #maybe i should have splitted in 2 parts???? its so long 😳#i hope this didnt get to tiring to read #anywayyyyy #glee #blaine meta #blaine anderson #blangst #ps if you see some mispelling ignore it im kinda sleepy so... hehe

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august-anon · 3 years

Text

Unrestrained Revenge

This was meant to be part of tickletober 2020 but i never finished it, so it became it's own fic instead lol. Promised y’all a full-length BNHA fic from the backlog after the last Witcher fic, so here this is! Hope you enjoy!

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Fandom: BNHA

Ship(s): EraserMic

Characters (lee/ler): Switch!Aizawa Shouta/Switch!Yamada Hizashi

Word Count: 1870 words

Summary: Hizashi decides to take advantage of Shouta getting a little tangled up in his capture weapon. Shouta, of course, can't let that go without revenge.

[ao3 link]

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Shouta, in his opinion, worked far too much (which probably meant Hizashi, what with his three jobs, was working an alarming amount, but that was besides the point). He spent eight hours a day in a classroom, and several hours after that grading. Then, as if that wasn’t enough, he worked patrols all night as if he didn’t have to be back in the classroom most mornings.

So screw him if he wound up walking around most days in a half-asleep haze.

It became increasingly apparent one afternoon after he and Hizashi had gotten home from their day jobs at the school, for once neither of them being required to head to their second (or even third, in Hizashi’s case) job of the day. Hizashi went to feed the cats while Shouta headed toward the bedroom, looking to change into something more pajama-adjacent.

Only, the problem with being half-asleep most of the time was that you could wind up being rather clumsy. Which was how Shouta found himself in his current predicament: being tied up in his own damn capture weapon. When his struggles only wound up tightening the scarf around him, Shouta gave into the mortification of getting stuck and called for help.

“Hizashi?” He ground out. “I could use some help.”

He heard Hizashi’s footsteps draw near the bedroom and braced himself for the teasing.

“Babe? What is i--” the door opened, and Shouta cringed. Hizashi started laughing. “Shou--babe, how did you do that?”

“I don’t know.”

Hizashi continued laughing as he circled around him, and Shouta couldn’t tell if he was trying to decide where to start or if he was just trying to find the funniest angle to look at him from.

“I don’t think you’ve gotten tangled up this bad since high school.”

Shouta jerked in his tangled bindings and growled. “Will you just help me?”

“Alright, alright, chill out Sho-chan! We can fix this.”

Shouta slumped a little as Hizashi approached and started tugging at random segments of his capture weapon, trying to find a way to start untangling him. He huffed when it didn’t seem to do anything except make the parts that were still loose, tighter.

“You really got yourself stuck, didn’t you…?” Hizashi murmured.

Shouta rolled his eyes. “Get on with it.”

Hizashi pinched his bottom rib. “Behave and I-- What was that?”

Shouta, who had jumped and quietly yelped, quickly cleared his throat. “Nothing.”

A sly grin began to grow on Hizashi’s face. “Shouta,” he sang, raising his hands shaped into claws. “Are you lying to me, my love?”

Shouta stumbled back a few steps. “No.”

Hizashi raised an eyebrow. “You really think you can lie to me, babe? After all this time we’ve known each other?”

“Hizashi, don’t you da--”

Shouta cut himself off with a yelp as he stumbled over his own feet and landed on their bed. Hizashi cackled and bounced up onto the mattress after him, clawed hands still hovering tauntingly between them. Shouta struggled harder in his self-made bonds as Hizashi started wiggling his fingers.

“Hizashi--”

“I can’t believe I forgot you were ticklish, my own fiance!”

“Hizashi--”

“I think it’s very wise of me to do this when you can’t fight back,” Hizashi nodded sagely. “You are far too good at hand-to-hand.”

Before Shouta could reply with a quip about how Hizashi relied on his quirk too much, Hizashi’s hands were back on his ribs. Shouta swallowed another yelp and pursed his lips together, squeezing his eyes shut. Luckily, his ribs weren’t a bad spot, and the gentle pinches Hizashi was subjecting him to were easy enough to resist.

“Aw, come on, baby,” Hizashi tried to goad him, moving down to wiggle his fingers into Shouta’s sides where the scarf wasn’t covering him. “Just laugh! You’ll feel better!”

“You wish,” Shouta ground out.

“You’re right, I do wish. That’s why you should do it.”

Shouta locked his jaw and squirmed around as much as he could, but he couldn’t exactly get much leverage when he was wrapped up in his own capture weapon. Dammit, he should’ve been paying better attention to what he was doing.

It wasn’t like he necessarily minded being tickled, certainly not, and he always enjoyed having Hizahi’s hands all over him. It was just so… embarrassing. His face flushed and his grin was silly and his laugh was weird. Plus, he preferred being restrained on his own terms, rather than getting stuck due to his own clumsiness.

“Sho, if you just give me a giggle or three, this will all be over so much faster,” Hizashi teased, squeezing his hips and making Shouta grunt.

“Fuck you,” Shouta bit out.

Hizashi winked down at him. “Maybe later, Sho-chan.”

Shouta felt his heart stop when Hizashi’s grinned widened, eyes getting a mischievous glint to them. He tried to shuffle his body further up the bed, but Hizashi simply grabbed a loop of capture weapon to keep him from moving away.

“Good thing I know all your tricks,” he said with another wink. “I’ll have you giggling in no time.”

Hizashi then leaned down, pressing little pecks of kisses to his cheeks, jaw, and ears. Unfortunately, Hizashi was right: this action did almost always end with him giggling. The soft, playful affection was certainly one of Shouta’s secret weaknesses, but the thing Shouta hadn’t admitted to Hizashi about this little action was just how much Hizashi’s mustache tickled. Even with his lips pursed and his face scrunched up, the giggles bubbling up in Shouta’s chest began shaking his whole body, escaping from his nose.

“Here they come,” Hizashi sang into his ear.

Hizashi’s hand scratched down the top of his thigh as he pressed a ticklish kiss just underneath Shouta’s jaw. Shouta gasped, and his laughter escaped before he could stop it. He wished he had his hands free to hide his face. God this was so embarrassing.

Especially with Hizashi gazing at him like he’d hung the moon and the stars. It only made his face burn more.

“You’re beautiful when you smile,” Hizashi said.

Shouta didn’t even bother responding through his giggles. He simply rolled over to bury his burning face into the duvet. Unfortunately, that just opened up a whole new expanse of ticklish skin for Hizashi to exploit. He dug his fingers underneath and in-between loops of his capture scarf, somehow managing to pinpoint all the most sensitive places on Shouta’s back, making him cackle and kick his legs out.

“Hizashi, please!”

Hizashi chuckled. “Alright, alright.” He rolled Shouta over again, grinning down at him. “Let’s get you untangled, then.”

It took an absurd amount of time for Hizashi to get Shouta untied. It certainly didn’t help that Hizashi kept sneaking little tickles here and there, making Shouta squirm, which only tightened his bonds further. When Shouta was finally free, he tossed his scarf across the room with a scowl, making Hizashi fall back against the bed in laughter.

“Oh yeah?” Shouta growled, sweeping a hand through the hair in his face and holding it out of the way. “You think that’s funny? You like to laugh?”

“Oh, lighten up, baby. You and I both know you didn’t hate that.”

Shouta ignored the flush he felt rising into his cheeks once more.

“You’re going to regret that,” he said.

Hizashi’s eyes went wide and he started to sit up, but Shouta launched himself at him before Hizashi could escape. He pinned Hizashi down against the mattress, suddenly wishing he hadn’t thrown his capture weapon aside in his tantrum, and swiftly settled over his hips, pressing Hizashi’s hands into the mattress above his head. Hizashi squirmed around underneath him, already bubbling with nervous giggles.

“Sho--Shouta, come on, babe--”

Shouta cocked his head to the side. “I don’t know, ‘Zashi. You seemed pretty keen on taking advantage of my situation.”

“Baby, please--” Hizashi yelped, trying to free his hands.

But Shouta could hear the giddy undertone to his voice. Hizashi hated this just as much as Shouta did, which was to say, he didn’t hate it one bit. Quite the opposite, in fact Even if they’d played like this less and less over the years, to the point of them stopping entirely for a brief time, the game remained the same, and fake, weak protests had always been a part of it.

“The difference between you and me, babe,” Shouta said, giving Hizashi one of his terrifying grins, “is that I never forgot that you were ticklish.”

Which meant that Shouta knew exactly where to target to get Hizashi howling.

And Hizashi clearly realized that too, because he gasped and tucked his red face into the crook of his elbow. Shouta was tempted to call him out on it, to remove the ways to hide his face since Shouta hadn’t been able to hide his, but he decided to have mercy and simply dive in.

See, what Hizashi had so foolishly forgotten was that the two of them shared a weak point. Shouta and Hizashi both had horribly ticklish necks, both easily ranked as one of their worst spots. Hizashi didn’t do much to protect his neck, but Shouta’s ticklishness was certainly one of the reasons he kept his hair so long and wore his capture weapon everywhere: it was much wiser to hide the sensitive spot away than to let his friends have access to it.

And so Shouta kept Hizashi’s hands pinned to the bed, leaning down to bury his face in Hizashi’s neck. A squeal (thankfully not quirk-powered) ripped from Hizashi’s lips as Shouta gently scraped his stubble against Hizashi’s throat, and the sound only got louder and more high-pitched when Shouta brought his lips and teeth into the equation.

There were small bursts of laughter here and there, but it seemed like Hizashi was so overwhelmed by the sensation that he couldn’t do much more than shriek and squeal and yell out wordlessly. In Shouta’s opinion, it was fucking adorable.

“Had enough yet?” Shouta teased, carefully keeping his voice monotone to set Hizashi on edge.

He didn’t even bother waiting for an answer before pressing his lips to a weak point under Hizashi’s jaw and blowing a loud raspberry. Hizashi’s laughter (or, more accurately, screaming) went silent at that, his shoulders shaking with mirth.

As the sensation faded, Hizashi gasped and called out, “Enough!”

Shouta backed off instantly, freeing Hizashi’s hands but not climbing off his hips just yet.

“Your endurance is down,” Shouta said.

Hizashi rolled his eyes, but the grin on his face was bright and happy. “Yeah, yeah.” His grin morphed into something a little more mischievous. “You know what I’m in the mood for right about now?”

Shouta raised an eyebrow. “A nap, hopefully.”

Hizashi’s laughter rang out through the apartment once more as he pulled Shouta back down onto the mattress with him. He pressed a lingering kiss to Shouta’s lips before squirming out of his arms and worming his way under their mound of blankets.

“A nap sounds great, Sho-chan.”

Shouta snorted. “It fucking better, after all that,” he replied, and climbed under the blankets himself.

And for once, the two of them slept peacefully, wrapped tightly in each other’s arms.

#tickle fic #My writing #bnha tickling #lee!aizawa shouta #ticklish!aizawa shouta #ler!yamada hizashi #lee!yamada hizashi #ler!aizawa shouta #ticklish!yamada hizashi #bnha #aizawa shouta #yamada hizashi #erasermic

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