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daily-dose-of-imagines · 3 years

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ꜰᴏʀɢᴇᴛ ᴍᴇ ɴᴏᴛ | ᴋᴀɪ ᴄʜɪꜱᴀᴋɪ x ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ | ᴏɴᴇ-ꜱʜᴏᴛ

Y’all thought it was oVER? lolol Blame Admin T--- I asked her who I should write for BNHA and she said this SO ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ As always, thank you all so much for the love and support for this blog~! I hope you all enjoy this as much as I did with writing it~!

I do apologize if I don’t capture his character the best ;;”

I won’t lie, I was listening to Might U as I was writing this.

» » Admin Ko

Tedious. At least, that’s what it should’ve been. Yet instead of feeling the normal bouts of irritation at the lack of control he had over the situation at hand, he felt...unnerved. The imaginary seed that was implanted in his stomach all those months ago seemed to only gain in mass.

“...Who are you?”

He shouldn’t have allowed himself to grow these...feelings. Not only did he feel contaminated and utterly sick to his stomach, but the strange ache in his chest did nothing to help soothe his frazzled nerves as those curious yet dim (e/c) hues peered into his sorrowful golden ones.

“...My name is Chisaki Kai...”

“Oh! Hello Chisaki.”

A bout of coughing and another grimace as the pain in his chest amplified tenfold at the horrifying sound. It disgusted him. It truly did, yet instead of feeling the need to get away, he wanted to get closer to her. To comfort her-- hell to shake some common sense into her. Even if it meant he would break out, he just had to do something.

“I...apologize if this seems rude...”

“What is it?”

“...what happened to your arms?”

“...I lost them because I was careless. This...I suppose, is my punishment.”

Her curious stare continued to wash over him as he felt the prickle of goosebumps rise on his shoulders. Turning away, he kept his gaze on the vacant wall of the hospital ward. This was torturous. She was torturous.

Yet still she managed to worm her way into his heart, and he didn’t know whether or not if he wanted to ask for cardiac surgery or to embrace this newfound emotion.

All he really knew was that if he had only been smarter-- hell maybe even faster at coming up with the quirk-destroying drug he could’ve prevented this. He could’ve gotten rid of the parasite that lurked in her veins.

➽───────────────❥

6 Months Ago

“Patient name: (y/n) (l/n). Quirk: Amnesiac.”

Trudging down the corridor, the man once known as Overhaul, walked in step alongside his parole officer / attending doctor. It hadn’t been too long since his arrest and...amputation. In all honesty, he wondered why he was being granted this rare privilege.

An assistant for a patient. That’s all they had told him. Of course Kai had to scoff. How on earth was he supposed to help? With the lack of usable limbs and knowledge limited to that of basic medical needs he didn’t really find a real necessity in this patient’s apparent ‘recovery’.

“...Amnesiac?”

“As it’s name implies, it’s a quirk that deals the user amnesia--- yet in our patient’s case it not only forces her to lose her memories, but practically breaks down her body’s physical state.”

“...In simpler terms?”

“In short every time she loses her memory her body deteriorates along with it. It’s as if her body is, in a sense...rewinding itself forward to make up for the fact that she lost those memories.”

A grimace. If he could, he would’ve spat out that he had been right in his assumption that quirks were just an infestation to the world, this patient clearly being a poor victim of it.

“...And what is my purpose of ‘assisting’ you?”

“As far as I’m aware, you’re pretty damn heartless and selfish. So it should be easy for you to not catch feelings for her whilst being a constant in her life right?”

“A...constant.”

“Yeah, just someone who she sees everyday until well...”

“She passes.”

“I mean...yeah. Damn you really are heartless.”

“Tch. This is a waste of my time is what this is.”

“Hey, you’re helping me whether you want to or not man. It’s just a visit everyday for like, an hour or two at most.”

Another grimace was given as Kai felt a shiver run down his spine. Despite the place he would be in was a hospital, it still brought the ex-yakuza boss a sense of dread. Especially with the amount of infested bodies that littered the place.

“...how long?”

“Holy shit dude, I get that you don’t want to do this but seriously---”

“How long until she loses her memory you dumbass.”

“..Oh. Well, from what we gather they can last from a day, to a couple of months. Though the longer she stays in a...well, let’s call it a session, the more it harms her body.”

“So say she forgets me tomorrow.”

“Then her body moves forward a day.”

“....After a month?”

“She lurches forward a month.”

“Thus leading to a quick progression in her deteriorating health.”

“...Exactly.”

It was, to say the least, unsettling to hear. Never had he heard of such a sickening twist for a quirk. No matter, the deal was simple. If he was lucky, this would last a year-- as fucked up as it sounded, the sooner she passed the less she would suffer in the long run.

As they neared the door, the clear unease that settled on his features was one that his parole doctor could see from a mile away.

“Chill dude, it’ll be fine.”

With that, the door cracked open, and there seated quietly whilst reading a book was a woman. By any standards she was normal, average, easy on the eyes with a slight fae-like feel. Though really it was most likely the early evening glow that cascaded into her room the moment they entered.

All Kai really knew was that it was the moment when gold met glittering (e/c) hues that a seed lodged it’s way into his stomach.

➽───────────────❥

It had started off easy-- well in Kai’s opinion it had. Every other day seemed to be a new start to the ritual that was re-introducing himself to her and making small talk.

In all honesty, he wouldn’t admit it, but the simplicity of being able to have a normal conversation with someone brought a sense of peace in him. Of course this didn’t mean his usual snark and calculating ways-- or so he says.

For Kai, this change in routine was oddly enough, welcomed. With everything he had gone and the collogues he had imprisoned god knows where, the opportunity to engage in small talk was to say the least, enlightening. It had surprised him. As someone who sought out tactical moves in reading his opponents, he found himself at ease with the simplicity of where he was at.

Granted it was albeit dull in comparison to the interrogations he goes through, it was still a part of his routine that he refused to change. Not when he’s been so invested in it.

That changes when the day he enters her room to find that instead of having to reintroduce himself to her, she remembers him. She flashes him a gentle smile with an endearing, “How are you?” and that in itself has the former yakuza leader lose his breath as he can only comically blink at her before forcing himself to adjust to this strange change.

No later did another change occur that brought a wave of new emotions in him. She had touched him. A caress to his cheek, and unsurprisingly in that moment he broke out in hives. His sight blurring as panic shot through his system at the abundance of thoughts that struck his head as the irritation from the hives had him reeling away from her.

He didn’t see her distressed face. Nor did he see the tears that streamed down her cheeks as she desperately sought out someone to help him. Instead, he awoke to his room laying down with his hives treated.

He felt violated. Disgusted, yet still. Even with that he found himself at her door a week later. Prepared to start a new with her and a possible replay of what had happened a week prior. Instead, he found her bowed deeply at the waist as she tightly clutched at the thin fabric of her hospital gown.

“I’m so sorry Chisaki! I didn’t know...I deeply apologize for what had happened!”

“...You...remembered?”

“Of course! You’re someone I can never forget.”

The pit in his stomach grew tenfold as his feet began to walk towards the awaiting lounge chair. Golden hues met truthful (e/c) ones as she shifted uncomfortably in her seat before once again bowing.

“I really am sorry...I shouldn’t have reached out to you like that...”

“...just be more aware next time.”

And like that, the pit in his stomach continued to grow. With each passing day she retained her memories, the more the pit swelled in size, and the more she began to work her way into his heart.

➽───────────────❥

Present Day

He didn’t know why he felt an overwhelming pressure in his gut. The lack of food he ate was odd enough, but to actively avoid something out of his daily routine? It was unheard of. He even made that stupid request to ask his parole doctor to grab (y/n) that stupid drink she liked.

Mentally shaking his head, Kai lightly tapped his shoe against the door before sliding it open.

The sight bestowed upon him though was one that could’ve brought him to his knees as the pang in his chest seemed to duly ache as he dragged his feet into the room.

“...(y/n)?”

It was quiet. The warm beams of the spring sun settled on her pale features as dim (e/c) orbs glimmered at the sight of him. He should’ve seen this coming. Especially after she had remembered him the day it set everything out of pattern. Instead, he turned a blind eye. Out of pure ignorance? He wasn’t remotely sure anymore. All he knew was that she shouldn’t be like this.

She should be her stupid lively self, cracking jokes and sharing her stupid stories with him. Not laying there like a corpse.

“Ah...Chi-- Kai, sorry you caught me waking up from a nap. I’m sorry I don’t look more presentable...”

“Nonsense. Now, tell me what you’ve done today.”

“Straight to the point huh? Sometimes I wonder how you’d ever date anyone.”

Though weak, the teasing tone she held in her voice was one that added more weight to his chest as he seated himself in what she declared the ‘(y/n)’s best friend’s chair’. A stupid name if you asked him, but he wouldn’t tell her that.

And like that, she spoke of her day, simple tasks and duties she’s done during her stay at the hospital while Kai listened to her as the best friend she claimed he was.

As for the new name basis, Kai couldn’t tell anyone when it picked up. All he knew was that it didn’t piss him off as much as it should’ve.

As the time neared for him to leave, she stopped him. A look of hesitance on her face as irritation seemed to grow on his own.

“What is it?”

“....Can I hold your face?”

“What?!”

“With gloves on!”

The statement caught him by surprise. Already he felt the disgusting voices in the back of his head whisper at him yet instead of acting on those voices he found himself mutely staring at her as she fumbled over her words.

All he could really pick out was the light blush that was on her cheeks. The spark of color that brought his feet towards her bedside as she stared up at him with shock in those (e/c) eyes.

“Tch. What are you waiting for?”

Caught off guard, she could only stare at him for a moment before giddily shifting herself to get off the bed. A noise of distaste left his throat at her motion as she merely rolled her eyes and shushed him as she went to fervently clean her hands before snapping on the gloves.

Yet as she did this he couldn’t help but feel the ache in his chest grow even more at the sight of her frail hands and the subtle appearance of a bruise around her wrist at her careless motion of snapping the gloves on. This was immediately forgone as she walked up to him, mindful to keep a distance before she hesitantly held her hands out in a flower cup motion.

At first, Kai had no idea what she was doing, but as he grew to analyze the situation-- as well as remember the odd videos and photos she decided to show him as she sought a sort of relationship herself-- he carefully put his chin into her hands. The hesitancy of her fingers brushing his cheeks pulled a new sort of fondness in his chest as he finally relaxed his cheek against her shy hand.

Golden eyes peered deeply into glimmering (e/c) as he watched her face light up with the most color he had see on her that day. Satisfied, he waited until she finally let go.

“...Thank you, Kai.”

“No problem.”

“No really...thank you...for everything.”

Unease quickly overtook the fondness in his heart as he straightened himself out. Confusion was clearly matted onto his features as he stared down at her.

“...Why are you saying that?”

“What? I can’t say what I want for once? You let me all the time so just let me say this too!”

Finding the whole situation uncomfortable, Kai made his way to the door once more. Though before he left he motioned with his head for her to get back into bed. In response, he got her usual snark as she stuck her tongue out before carefully getting back into bed.

“If you’re on good behavior tomorrow, I’ll have your doctor bring you that drink of yours.”

The light in her eyes was enough to satisfy him and his worries as she nodded quickly before giving him a mock salute as she excitedly got herself comfy in the bed.

“Alright, you promised Kai~!”

➽───────────────❥

“Who are you?”

It should’ve have hurt him as much as it did, but after 6 fucking months. 6 months of her being a daily part of his life where she did not forget him for a single moment came crashing down. The tremble that clutched tightly to his words as he re-introduced himself went unnoticed as he slowly made his way towards the lounge chair that was once considered to be (y/n)’s best friend’s chair.

“...My name is Chisaki Kai.”

“Oh! Hello Chisaki.”

He could tell she was straining with keeping up a happy front. Her appearance was frail. So delicate that he feared anyone who touched her would be the cause of her disappearing before his eyes. The drink he had requested for her sat innocently on the bedside table as she gave him a reassuring smile.

“It’s going to be okay...”

“...what?”

“You look...distressed, I wanted to just reassure you things will be okay.”

No they won’t. He wanted to scream it at her, that the rasp in her voice was punching holes into his gut. That the frail breathing she had was worse than his quirk being taken away from him.

And in that moment, they stayed in silence. Merely watching one another with mixed emotions before he broke back into the routine he once thought would be meaningless.

“...What did you do today?”

Her words, though slow, told him of a peaceful day. One with little adventures and many simple moments that he’s come to slowly appreciate in his own life.

Though as the hour of his leave came, he found it hard to get up from the chair. His feet staying practically cemented to the floor as he watched her peer out the window as the warm rays of the early evening sun cascaded over her. Much like it had that day he first saw her.

Forcefully pushing himself up from the chair, he made his way towards the door. Yet each step he took towards it the more the aching feeling in his chest grew as the fear of his last day in that room came to it’s due date.

“...Kai? Can you turn around for me...just once?”

The words caught him completely off guard as he turned to face her. Those eyes no longer were filed with guarded walls. Instead he was met with the face of (y/n). The woman he came to slowly adore within the past 6 months.

He didn’t even think. Instead he surged forward, practically bruising his legs at the force he decided to stop himself with. Though he didn’t care. The bruises be damned, she remembered him.

“...Can I hold your face? One more time? I promise I won’t ask again. I’ll even wear gloves!”

“...No need.”

The aching in his chest grew tenfold as he found it hard to speak. The overwhelming emotions that sat in his chest were ready to burst out of him. Though he wasn’t sure how. Instead he bent down slightly, finding her confused face even more endearing before he rolled his eyes.

“Well?”

“B-But...the hives---”

“I don’t care. Hurry the fuck up.”

Like that, the confusion vanished as she gently put her hands together in that familiar flower cup motion. Worry was clearly evident in her eyes as she looked at him, but before she could even question again he placed his chin into her awaiting hands. Already the prickly sensation of the hives began to pool as he could feel them form across his skin.

“K-Kai--”

“It’s fine. Shut up. You said you won’t ask again.”

“T-That’s true...”

“Tch. You can make it up to me by getting better so I can show you the world.”

“...when you’re not in prison anymore, right?”

“Right...”

It was hard to speak now. The lump that once was in his stomach had traveled to his throat as he watched her warm (e/c) glisten with unshed tears as she gently caressed his cheeks, ever so mindful of his hives as she tried to at least move her hands. Instead, the male pressed himself further into her touch as the tears began to fall. If anyone noticed the strain in his voice, they didn’t mention it.

“...If you’re gonna be greedy that do what you’ve been wanting to do you romantic obsessed moron.”

With that, she shifted forward before pressing a sweet kiss to his forehead as the tears came down harder. The lump in his throat making it almost unbearable to talk.

“...Thank you Kai...thank you so much for these six months...”

“.....”

“Don’t forget me...okay?”

“Idiot...as if I could even forget the one dumbass that made me breakout after my imprisonment.”

A weak laugh was given as she finally pulled away. With her eyes rimmed red, she shifted to make a call for a nurse, though that was cut short as Kai surprisingly climbed into her bed. No words were exchanged as she reluctantly shifted herself down into the bed-- though it did take time, she managed to curl herself in a way where she left distance between them.

“...aren’t you supposed to go?”

Featherlike and faint, he strained to hear her as he shifted himself down to properly face her as he melted in her (e/c) gaze. The slow dimming of life in her eyes was enough to tell him that it was time. However, he refused to believe it. If anything he’d find her awake the next day with that silly smile on her face. Yet even as he thought about this, the tears that he once thought were impossible for him, slowly began to stream down his cheeks as he nestled himself closer to her.

“....one day won’t kill them.”

“...mmm...”

“....go to sleep angel, I’ll be right here...”

“...and...you’ll be next to me?”

“...always.”

➽───────────────❥

Patient Name: (y/n) (l/n) Chisaki Quirk: Amnesiac

Time of Death: 6:05PM

#bnha x reader #mha x reader #overhaul x reader #kai chisaki x reader #chisaki kai x reader #chisaki x reader #mha scenarios #bnha scenarios #mha imagines #bnha imagines #chisaki angst #we about to drop more angst in this bish #i know i should be working on wips and requests but i can't help it ksksksk

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monster-bait · 3 years

Note

Perhaps that person meant most blogs that just make dumb shitposts? Which is a lot of what tumblr is? The point is tumblr isn’t a functional website (we know this) and it will probably cause more to leave. Idk. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ I’m just talking ya know.

But the shit posters don't need to monetize, that's the point. People are acting like the entire platform is suddenly going to be paywalled, when the only people who would be paywalling are the creators who are potentially already doing so elsewhere.

Again - I have no intention of using this feature once it's rolled out. If you guys want to support my work subscribe to my Patreon. $5 a month gets you a Cambric Creek romance short, and the first full-length piece of that series is being published on Amazon within the next few weeks. Patrons will be receiving digital e-books as well as paperback copies depending on what tier they're in. If you guys can't afford to subscribe to my Patreon, my books are available on Amazon and my ko-fi is live.

But I am very lucky. I have an awesome reader base, many of whom followed me off of Tumblr when I launched my Patreon last fall. Many more readers followed me to Amazon when I published my first book this past winter. I am very, very lucky, and even with all of that luck and awesome readership the amount of my Tumblr readership who actually made the move to Patreon is less than 3%.

So if an artist here on Tumblr has a blog following of a few thousand people and they only have maybe a dozen or so patrons, wouldn't it benefit that blogger to be able to put up their comic posts here on the platform where their following already exists?

(AGAIN--I wouldn't trust Tumblr with a bag of my neighbor's trash right now. They're certainly not getting my credit card number. But if they could actually turn this into a legitimate API with real security measures I could see this being very very good for certain creators.)

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morganaseren · 4 years

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Human/Goddess AU

I swear, I’ll think of a better title later, but guess who thought of a new AU about Leliana and her female Cousland?! I ended up writing like 24 pages this time around because I have absolutely no self-control over my creativity anymore. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Things to know:

The premise was originally based off this short comic.

No Darkspawn or Blight threat.

Maker and Chantry don’t exist due to polytheistic God/Goddess system (with some inspiration taken from both Greek and Irish mythology). It’s broken down further into a multi-tiered structure of major and minor deities—a ranking determined by power essentially—but all the human and elf deities tend to get along fairly well with one another. Dwarves don’t have deities as they still worship The Stone, which they don’t consider a god, and Qunari don’t have them either since the Qun is more of a philosophy than a religion that follows any god.

The Evanuris don’t exist as we know of them canonically in-game, so Egghead never tore the Veil apart, and none of the Exalted Marches ever happened. Elves are still long-lived and have complete access to the Dales, which is essentially their kingdom of sorts.

No huge racial divides exist, but the dwarves (outside of surface dwarves) and qunari (outside of Tal-Vashoth and Vashoth) still tend to be rather reclusive.

Class stratification, however, still exists between the rich and the poor of Thedas.

Gods play a fairly active role on Thedas for those pious enough to worship them, but their work—stemming anywhere from simply helping crops to grow or even helping to turn the tides of a war—is often unseen. Very few among the faithful rarely ever get to see a deity in person.

Relationships with mortals and gods do occur—and children are born through such unions—but it isn’t considered official unless a courtship ritual is completed, where the mortal partner would be granted the same divine protection of the god and allowed access into the immortal world. That becomes relevant much later in the story.

In this AU, Leliana’s human (she’s 15 when she first meets Niamh, but nothing intimate between them happens until she’s well above age) while Niamh’s a goddess.

Like all my other AUs, this isn’t finished yet. There is a small intimate scene way down beneath the cut, but it’s nothing explicit. Still, if you’re interested so far, check out the additional content below!

Leliana had always been blessed, others had said, but it was not by simple chance.

She was born to a widowed mother—Oisine—who worked to provide for her child’s happiness so that she might one day have a better life than her. For such love and care, however, Leliana wanted to be able to return it one day. Perhaps beyond their quaint cottage by the sea, she could someday buy her mother the riches and luxury she so clearly deserved.

It was also—were she to admit it to herself—a wish of her own desires, for she had always yearned for more than just a simple life.

One day, Leliana wandered into the nearby forest out of simple boredom. She had played amongst its trees for as long as she could remember, and she knew the winding paths of it like the back of her hand. By chance, however, she came across a pair of black-furred wolves who stood upon a trail she had never seen before. The animals didn’t seem at all skittish, and as they turned to travel further into the woods, they looked over as if to beckon her into following. Leliana did, and she eventually found herself before an old, cliffside altar overlooking the sea.

It was remarkably humble in its appearance, Leliana admitted. Strangely enough, she felt more of a… presence to it than any of the ostentatious buildings of worship she had seen in the nearby city. The altar before her barely stood at chest-level, and beneath the light of the full moon, she realized the stone of its structure had been worn smooth by time and the elements.

She frowned when she saw the multitude of dead leaves and dirt gathered around the altar, however, and she wondered when the caretaker of such a monument had last seen to it. Leliana looked over at her two wayward companions, but one was already lazing about on its back in a nap while the other simply sat on its rump, revealing a maw full of pearl-white fangs as it yawned at her in boredom.

“Well, you two will clearly be of no help,” she murmured to herself before proceeding to clean up the various bits of debris around the altar. She began scrubbing at the top slab with a cloth to clean the dirt stain upon it, but she heard something akin to the sound of wind shifting followed by a person’s shadow falling across the stone surface.

Leliana looked up abruptly to see a dark-haired woman standing opposite of her and stumbled back in shock, especially given the path beyond the altar led to nothing but a sheer drop into the sea. There was no possible way someone else could have walked past her without her notice, so how had she gotten there?

Nothing in the woman’s posture indicated she meant her any harm. If anything, she seemed largely curious as she gazed upon the now clean altar while slowly walking around it to meet her.

Leliana saw that she wore an impressive silvery-white pelt over the shoulders of her cloak—a shade so dark that she couldn’t see any of the individual folds in the fabric. It seemed to simply absorb any light that dared shed itself upon it. To her continued amazement, the woman’s eyes were also gently aglow, and for a moment, she wondered if she had trespassed upon a ghostly specter with that pale grey gaze quietly regarding her.

For even with all the tales she’s heard and even told herself, the utter truth of the matter seemed far too outlandish even to her.

“It’s been quite some time since someone last visited my altar.”

The accent was one that Leliana couldn’t readily place. It certainly wasn’t Orlesian, Neverran, or Antivan. The woman’s tongue didn’t linger on the vowels and consonants in quite the same way, but the intonation wasn’t quite Free Marcher in origin either. Still, there was a calm, soft-spoken nature to it—calling forth the mental image of a downy feather drifting along the sea breeze—that she found soothing.

“This altar…” Leliana swallowed hard to gather the courage to speak her thoughts. “It is yours then? I-I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to intrude—”

But the woman gently waved off her apology.

“Had my familiars found you unworthy, you would not have been able to find the path here at all.”

At the title, both wolves behind Leliana immediately jumped up at the woman—no, the goddess—and proceeded to nuzzle at her face. They whined insistently for her attention, which only caused her to laugh. On their hind legs, the beasts simply towered over her apparently immortal guest, but she held their combined weight easily against her as she ran her hands through thick fur.

“I’m afraid I don’t know what to call you. I didn’t see a name upon the altar when I was cleaning it,” Leliana admitted.

“Hm?” Luminous silver eyes returned to her before glancing briefly at the stone monument. “Ah. Time tends to pass rather differently in your world. As such, I shouldn’t be surprised to see the text long eroded. If it pleases you to call me something, however, then you may call me Niamh.”

Leliana’s brows furrowed as she tried to place the name from the multitude of deities she had learned about over the years. “You’re the goddess of storms and the night sky, yes?”

Niamh seemed pleased at her knowledge, emphasized by the smile she gifted her. “Indeed I am. In any case, as you were kind enough to clean my altar, you are welcome to ask a favor of me.”

“Can it be anything?”

The goddess’ smile turned a tad more enigmatic then. “So long as the request is of equal value, then yes.”

‘Equal value?’ Ah.

Her mother had once told her to be wary of asking gods for favors, as they would always ask for something in return. It was their Law of Equivalent Exchange. If one didn’t word their wish carefully, a person could end up losing more than they gained, especially if the deity in question felt a mortal’s request wasn’t worth what was offered.

Leliana bit her lip. It would have been far too easy to ask for the riches to bestow upon her mother, but she couldn’t deny that she was curious about the woman before her. She’d likely never get a chance like this again, so she asked for something more manageable. Something that wouldn’t leave her with regret.

“Then, can I ask about you? About where you come from, and what all your powers are?” she asked, excitement soon superseding any apprehension she might have felt. “Are you the only goddess in the area right now, o-or are there more like you?” When those glowing, wintry-grey eyes simply blinked at her, she couldn’t help but blush, wondering if perhaps her usual curiosity and enthusiasm was too much for such an ageless being.

A dark head canted itself. “Just so I’m not mistaken, you desire nothing material for the task of cleaning my altar? You merely wish for my company so that you might ask your questions?” When Leliana nodded earnestly in response, Niamh released a small huff of laughter. “Well, this is certainly a first for me. As you wish then.” She briefly looked over her own shoulder, focusing on a point beyond the horizon, where it seemed impossible to determine where the night sky ended and the starlit sea began. “You have until the sun rises to sate your curiosity. Mind you, I might not be able to answer every question you have.”

Leliana nodded, understanding there might be secrets that needed to be kept.

Niamh then gently pushed one of her familiars away from her. The wolf—a male from what she could readily determine—had been resting his front paws on her shoulder to better lave his tongue over the woman’s cheek in continual affection. At being deterred, however, he uttered a low huff of disapproval before grumpily brushing his side against Niamh’s leg. He circled once around her form after she gave him a few solid pats before he slowly trotted back to Leliana’s side.

At such a close distance, she was better able to tell the difference between him and his female counterpart. While they both predominantly had black fur all over their bodies, the underside of his chin held silver coloring that trailed down to his chest whereas the other wolf’s grey patterning extended from chest to belly. Both seemed remarkably intelligent as they regarded her with aurulent eyes.

Niamh motioned for her to sit, and she did so without question. Leliana gasped softly when the wolf near her immediately laid himself down so that he could curl himself around her body, likely as a way to keep her warm from the cold sea breeze. His counterpart did the same for Niamh, who then began answering a few of the questions she asked earlier.

Apparently, some of the tales Leliana had been told as a child were true.

Niamh was one of three children sired by a mortal warrior that her mother Eleanor—one of the most renowned sea goddesses—had fallen in love with. Her brother Fergus was the eldest and was a god of protection, and her older sister Saoirse was a goddess of victory. Niamh then went on to explain it was entirely possible for there to be multiple deities with the same responsibilities in a given area.

“Even for us, it is impossible to be in two places at once,” she further explained with laughter in her voice—the sound of it as ethereal as moonlight shimmering across the sea. “If one mortal has need of us somewhere, then it’s simply more efficient for there to have other colleagues of similar gifts nearby on the off chance a similar request is made.”

“And there’s never been an issue with sharing an area like that?”

“It happens on occasion. A stronger god might be able to force others out to establish a claim over territory, but it’s generally considered… uncouth to do so, especially if it was done without provocation.”

Leliana frowned. “Then why risk doing so?”

“To gain more worshippers essentially. I’m sure you’ve realized that it’s rare for any one of us to be seen these days, yes? Our ability to linger within this world stagnates the longer we go without worship. If there is no one to remember or believe in us, then we lack… presence here for lack of a better word. Eventually, it means the end of our time here on your world. Some of us might choose to stay here for whatever time we are allotted and simply fade into the ether, or we return home from whence we came.”

“Does this have to do with your Law of Equivalent Exchange?”

Niamh tipped her head, impressed. “You’re well-learned. Yes. As powerful as we are, for us to be here, we need you just as much as the opposite might be true.”

Leliana hummed thoughtfully. “There are still people who pray to gods of the sea and sky for a safe voyage through turbulent seas. I can’t imagine you’d be in danger of being forgotten anytime soon.”

“For the time being. That might fade eventually. While the requests I receive aren’t fleeting, they are made with hollowed hearts. The sailors I help guide may yet one day feel they have no need of me—that my name is merely superstition.”

“Surely not!” She felt indignation rise within her on the woman’s behalf, but Niamh merely chuckled.

“Your world changes at so rapid a pace that it even takes us by surprise.”

“Does it? Is it so different on yours?”

“It… is something I cannot reveal to you unfortunately.”

Leliana had expected as much, but she found another subject to latch on to easily enough. “Well, you also mentioned there were stronger gods before, yes? Is that a common matter?”

“Not entirely. We have a tiered system to judge our respective power, and it’s largely determined by how much we can affect the world around us. Imagine Thedas as a leaf resting atop a pond, and then consider the water’s surface area to be the power of a Sixth Tier god. By that same principle, a Fifth Tier god would be synonymous to a lake while a Fourth Tier would be more akin to a sea, and a Third Tier would be an entire ocean.”

“Then the first two tiers…?”

Niamh briefly pressed a tongue against her cheek in thought. “Hm. It gets a tad more complicated after that. Essentially, a Second Tier would be any combination of seas and oceans, but a First Tier would encompass every body of water mentioned. Again, this is all an extremely simplified explanation of our system.”

“And which tier are you then?”

Surprisingly, the goddess seemed reluctant to state her rank. “Let’s just say I… can’t readily determine the difference in power between a Fourth, Fifth, or Sixth Tier deity.”

Leliana’s eyes widened. “Truly?”

Niamh shrugged with a sheepish smile. “Yes. The power discrepancy between them all is too subtle for me to notice.”

Leliana was stunned at such a revelation, for save for the glowing eyes and a presence that exuded gentle, soothing power, Niamh seemed like any other woman. She was calm, self-assured, and—she waited until Niamh turned her attention down to her wolf companion and began petting it before finishing her thought—wonderfully attractive.

But Leliana chided herself for admitting the latter fact.

What goddess would be interested in a mere slip of a girl after all? Leliana had only lived a fraction of Niamh’s entire life. Surely someone of Niamh’s status would have her pick of any suitor—mortal or otherwise—over such a long lifespan. She was thankful Niamh was kind enough to indulge her with her questions, and she did have many of them.

As expected of her title, Leliana got to experience how the goddess could manage to change the weather around them to her whims. With a simple wave of a hand, Niamh effortlessly wreathed them all in warmth when a stronger gust of wind blew in from the sea, never once pausing in her explanation regarding her other abilities. She could switch between them with nary a thought, allowing ice to gather at her fingertips like icy talons before a simple flex caused them to shatter, allowing lightning to dance between them instead—a living cat’s cradle.

“They also call you the goddess of the night sky, don’t they? Are you only capable of appearing during the evening then?”

“It’s more personal preference. I like the quiet the night affords me; there is a different beauty to be found under the cover of it. When mortals originally saw me in the past, it was always in the evenings, so I suppose the assumption remained, but nothing prevents me from appearing during the day should I wish it. Ah.” Niamh turned to look back out to the sea. “And it appears our exchange has run its course.”

Leliana turned her attention to the horizon as well, and was surprised to see daybreak just barely beginning to crest it. She had been enjoying Niamh’s attention so much that she hadn’t realized so much time had passed.

“I’ll have Eimear—” The female wolf rose to her feet just as Niamh did. “—and Cillian escort you home, young one.” (Note: Eimear is pronounced “ee-mur” and Cillian is pronounced “kill-ee-an”)

“Leliana.”

“Hm?”

“My name.” She smiled as she pulled her shawl closer around her shoulders. “It’s Leliana.”

“Ah.” Niamh nodded in acknowledgement. “Take care then, Leliana. I don’t think I’ve ever had a conversation this long with a mortal. It was a new but enjoyable experience.” From her smile, Leliana could see that she was sincere in her words, and she felt wonderfully dazed at the fact.

“Likewise, my lady.” She had the sense to curtsy gracefully before the goddess. “Will… Will I be able to find you here again?”

Niamh blinked. “Perhaps,” she replied, raising a brow at her curiously. “You would have to give something in return again however.”

“Would you be opposed to exchanging stories then?”

“Stories?”

“Yes, you mentioned how much Thedas changes each time you return. I could tell you stories of things that might have occurred while you’ve been away, and perhaps you might tell me stories of your own—the ones that might have been lost through the ages.”

Her request seemed to interest Niamh, for her lips turned up into a smile. “A sensible exchange. Very well. Should you wish to see me again, travel upon the path to this altar and press your hand atop its stone. I will know to meet you here.”

And once a week, Leliana returns to the cliff and that altar—always escorted by the guardian wolf pair—to meet the goddess who has very much become her friend.

As promised, they exchange stories and even songs—much to Leliana’s endless delight—but sometimes their evenings together are simply spent having meals together.

Niamh had confessed that foods of the mortal world provided no real sustenance for her, but she could still taste them all the same. As such, Leliana makes it a point to find new things for her to try, and she discovers the woman liked sweets the best. She can always tell by the way those luminous eyes widen by the barest fraction each time she samples something of interest.

The exchanges rarely last as long as that first night they met, but Leliana doesn’t mind. She enjoys Niamh’s company, and—from those little smiles that always send her heart aflutter—she thinks the reverse might also be true.

A year later, Leliana turned 16, and she went to Niamh one night in excitement. Her mother’s employer was taking them to Val Royeaux for a soiree!

“Can you believe it? Oh, it will be my first one ever!” Utterly filled with glee, she did a little twirl in place, and Niamh was the epitome of patience as Leliana explained how fortuitous an opportunity this was. “Val Royeaux is the crown jewel of Orlais, and there will no doubt be so many people there! Mother says there are always patrons milling about, looking for new talent. Perhaps I might be lucky enough to meet one, and I’d be able to sing for them and tell them tales, but…Oh. ” Her excitement then dimmed somewhat as her voice trailed off, something that Niamh noticed immediately.

“But what?” she asked, beckoning her to continue.

“But there must already be some aspiring minstrels there, those who have lived there their whole lives! How could I ever possibly hope to make myself noticed among them?” she asked plaintively, and she momentarily began pouting when Niamh laughed in gentle amusement.

“Leliana, your songs and your stories are wonderful. I have no doubt a true patron of the arts would appreciate your talents,” she reassured, but when Leliana tried to protest, the woman merely arched a brow. “A false sincerity—no matter how honeyed—is still a lie, and I would never be so crass as to do such a thing to you. However, if you feel that you truly need to give others further incentive to listen to you…”

Niamh paused as she reached into her cloak, and Leliana could faintly hear the jingling of metal before the woman pulled out a brooch so beautiful that it took her very breath way.

Multiple pearls of varying size were inlaid into a sharply-curved bed of obsidian, which emphasized the opalescence of the gems arranged artistically into the shape of a crescent moon. Tiny diamonds decorated the scalloped edge as they hugged each pearl, and bisecting the widest part of the brooch’s arch was a simple silver pin. When the goddess proceeded to hold the piece of jewelry out for her to take, Leliana was taken aback.

“But I can’t possibly take this!”

Niamh merely smiled. “I can always make another like it. When you wear this, simply run a finger across each of the pearls, and its magic will take effect. As you perform, those within hearing distance of you will have no choice but to have their eyes drawn upon you. I have blessed this brooch sparingly, however, so while it may help to draw an audience, it is up to your own skill to further keep them there, Little Bird. Do you understand?”

“Yes, but I didn’t even offer anything in exchange,” she said worriedly.

“When you return from this soiree of yours, tell me of it, and I will consider that payment enough.” The cold winds shifted then, and Leliana found that Niamh’s brows had knitted together in consternation. When she turned to her again, those glowing grey eyes were apologetic. “I am beckoned elsewhere, but I have faith that you’ll be able to be able to succeed in your endeavors. Farewell for now, Leliana.”

When Leliana returned to Niamh’s altar several weeks later, she was fresh-faced and beaming with delight, dancing in a gown of absolute finery. It was a gift from her patron Marjolaine—a wealthy, widowed woman, who had taken quite a fancy to her talents.

“Isn’t it beautiful? Oh, Lady Marjolaine is so generous! She’s been all over Thedas, and she knows so many things! She’s even teaching me how to use a bow!”

“‘A bow,’ you say?” Niamh frowned. “Any particular reason why?”

“For bard training.” When that only drew a further look of confusion, she hastened to explain. “It’s like… being both a minstrel and a bodyguard to your patron. Still, the world can be a dangerous place at times, no? Marjolaine wanted me to also learn how to defend myself.”

“I see.” If Niamh had any concerns, she didn’t voice them. “I imagine such training would take place away from here.”

“Yes,” she admitted, and an ache filled her then, causing her to slowly wring her hands together. “It is a wonderful opportunity. It is probably more than I could have ever hoped for, but it will also mean that I may not return here again for quite some time.”

“As expected.”

“You’re not... upset?”

“You are a young woman of incredible talent and determination, Leliana. I doubt there is much that even I could say that might deter you even had I wished to. Perhaps it was well past time you spread your wings from here and find what awaits you beyond the horizon. I will not keep you from it. Still…” She turned her gaze upon her altar. “I feel I must at least offer you a parting gift.”

The goddess flexed a hand, and Leliana was shocked to see that a broken corner of the altar’s foundation flew directly into Niamh’s palm. As pale fingers closed around it, energies of black and silver—the night and the stars made tangible—twined around the woman’s fist before disappearing moments later into the ether as she revealed her handiwork.

The stone had been reduced to the size of a coin, and upon its face was the image of a wolf’s head—noble and proud—set against the background of a raging storm. It was an icon often associated with Niamh, who wore two silver medallions of the same imagery on her cloak, which were connected by layered chains, fastening the fabric around her securely.

“Keep this upon your person, and should you find yourself in immediate danger, simply think of me, and you shall be protected,” Niamh said, presenting the gift to her.

“And…” She looked to her curiously. “What would you want for this in return?”

The corners of her lips turned up. “Clever girl… I don’t think I’ve ever had anyone ask me that outright before. Well. Would you be opposed to offering me a memory of yours?”

“‘A memory?’”

“Yes. I suspect you’ll make many more away from here, so I merely ask for one of your most cherished moments thus far. Would you find that acceptable?”

“Yes. What would I have to do?”

“Nothing on your end. Simply hold still…” Niamh reached out to press two fingertips gently against Leliana’s forehead, and she felt the warmth of a summer’s kiss gathered there for a brief moment before the woman then pulled away, blinking consecutively several times.

“Did you get it?” she asked.

“Yes,” Niamh said, looking at her with seeming consideration.

“Oh.” She didn’t feel like anything was amiss. “Which memory was it?”

Those lips parted briefly in an attempt to form an answer, but she soon shook her head, an enigmatic smile burnishing her features—one warm enough to ward Leliana against the cold of the winter sea. “It is irrelevant. Here.” She pressed the stone coin into her palm. “I thank you for the memory, and I wish you well on your journey.”

“I…” Leliana wet her lips as she clasped a hand against her chest. “I will miss you.”

“Likewise. Safe travels to you always, Little Bird.”

The woman turned on her heel and walked toward the edge of the cliff, and as she made to step off of it, her form simply dispersed like stardust scattering across the night breeze before simply fading before Leliana’s eyes.

Leliana learned and experienced much under her patron’s tutelage over the years, traveling from one corner of Thedas to the other, ever a faithful shadow. Beneath Marjolaine’s eye, her skills as a bard grew, honed well upon the battlefield and also in the depths of more private chambers.

Although she travels far at times, Leliana cannot keep her mind from the woman who is the night sky and storms made flesh. She dreams of eyes like moonlight—calm and ancient—watching her with warmth and then a smoldering fire of passion she wishes were true.

It’s a yearning that lingers in the back of her mind, and she finds that even with her growing infamy and riches, they bring her little joy. She begins to re-evaluate her life and proceeds to slowly distance herself from the Game—a fact that Marjolaine is too keenly aware of.

And from there, she learns of her lover’s final lesson: betrayal.

She returned to the stone altar by the sea a decade after she saw it last. Niamh appeared as promptly as always whenever she pressed a hand upon its stone, and Leliana saw those dark brows raised minutely in surprise upon seeing her, and she can’t help but smile.

Leliana was indeed much older than when they last saw one another although she feared she hadn’t grown quite as wise as she had hoped. Had that been the case, surely she would have learned of Marjolaine’s treachery much sooner. She explained as much to Niamh, who listened with quiet concern, as she detailed how everything went so terribly wrong.

“It was your coin that saved me,” Leliana revealed gratefully. “Without it, I would have been imprisoned and framed for treason by Marjolaine. If she is capable of committing such misdeeds against me—someone who she once saw as an ally—then she is capable to doing so to others. I cannot allow it to happen again. She will be brought to justice for her crimes.”

Niamh nodded in understanding. “And you came to me for help. Very well. Hold out your hands.”

Leliana did as instructed, and she saw Niamh’s dual-toned energy of black and silver forming before her, weighing down her palms. She kept them steady, and when the magic finally vanished, she found she was holding a new quiver full of arrows and a bow.

The latter was a thing of beauty, carved from ironbark so that it was lightweight but strong as steel. The grip of it appeared to have been made of white halla leather to contrast against the dark color of the weapon’s frame, and upon the widest part of the bow’s upper limb was Niamh’s personal icon engraved in silverite.

“Whisper my name upon the wind, and there shall be no manner of armor that your arrows cannot penetrate.”

“And in exchange?”

“A song sung under the night sky—one for every time you use the bow’s secondary ability.”

Leliana blinked. “Just songs then?”

“Yes.” Niamh smiled then. “I’ve found that I have missed them in all the time you’ve been away. Good hunting to you, Leliana.”

Leliana returns to Denerim to confront Marjolaine once more, and—with the blessings of a goddess on her side—she emerges victorious.

She takes a ship back to Orlais that very evening. While Marjolaine stews in fury below decks, Leliana is alone at the prow, quietly singing over a dozen songs up to the night sky. As the wind stirs to tousle her hair, she smiles, feeling like Niamh is there with her, listening in approval for the promise kept.

When she drags Marjolaine to the Orlesian embassy, Leliana informs them all of her former lover’s treason with evidence to back her claims. Marjolaine is consequently imprisoned—all titles and lands stripped from her name—and Leliana is hailed as a heroine. Empress Celene raises her name to nobility and grants her the title of Nightingale of the Imperial Court as her lead reconnaissance expert.

With the act, it becomes abundantly clear to the nobles of Orlais that while Marjolaine had once proven herself a consummate player of the Great Game, Leliana had bested her utterly. Some fear her skill while others hope to ride on the coat tails of her success, but whatever the case, Leliana is simply happy that everything is right with the world for once.

With her new title and riches, Leliana buys a new villa by the Waking Sea—closer to Niamh’s altar—and ensures her mother never has to work another day in her life ever again. Although her new profession involves a bit of underhandedness here and there, she does what she can to help and donate to various charities.

Even with such a busy schedule, she always finds time to visit Niamh, and they reconnect, establishing an old friendship between stories, songs, and meals.

Five years after revealing Marjolaine’s treachery, Leliana’s mother falls terribly ill. A combination of wasting sickness and cholera, the healers say. While Leliana assures them that money is no issue for any treatment they suggest, they regretfully inform her that with Oisine’s advancing age, there is little they can do other than to try and keep her comfortable over the next few weeks.

Distraught, Leliana turns to the one person she knows can help.

“And you understand the type of exchange this requires?” Niamh asked once more.

“Yes.”

Leliana had just neglected to inform the goddess she didn’t see herself finding another mortal to complete such a task. While she regretted her soon-to-be proposition hadn’t been made under better circumstances, she’d be lying if she said she hadn’t thought about something similar over the years. Even after a decade and a half after they first met, Leliana still found Niamh to be as enchanting as ever. She was intelligent, gifted in more than magical ability, and was remarkably sweet and kind.

Surely, with such coveted traits, she wouldn’t object to siring the firstborn the Law of Equivalent Exchange required?

“Very well,” Niamh said, unaware of Leliana’s thoughts. “When you return home tonight, your mother will be in pristine health once more. It will be like she never fell ill at all, and even the memory of her suffering will fade along with the memories of those who had interacted with her since then.”

Leliana sighed in relief. “Thank you so much. She means everything to me.”

“I’m aware.” The woman’s glowing eyes turned apologetic then. “I only hope you won’t find the price of this all too steep, but I suppose only time will tell. Again, you needn’t begin this process right away. As the matter regarding your mother was quite serious, you’re welcome to see for yourself over the next few days that I spoke true in keeping my end of the bargain.”

“I know you wouldn’t betray me,” Leliana reassured, smiling, before mischief filled her. “So when do we begin?”

Luminous grey eyes blinked. “Pardon?”

“You said you wanted my firstborn, no?”

“Yes, and you agreed, did you not?”

“I did,” she reiterated, her smile still present. “As I’ve said, when do we begin?”

Leliana watched—amusement suffusing her—as realization then dawned over the goddess, causing those pale eyes to widen comically.

“Oh,” she uttered, baffled. “I—This was not…I don’t think…!”

Leliana had to bite her lip to keep her laughter from spilling out. In all the years they had known one another, this was perhaps the first time she had seen the otherwise unflappable goddess at such a loss for words. “Is there a problem?”

“Not necessarily…” Niamh grimaced, trying to regain her composure. “This is admittedly quite the first for me. As such, I need some time to prepare. I’ve every intention of keeping my word, but I want to be absolutely certain I won’t somehow hurt you in the process. Would you be willing to meet me in the forest tomorrow evening?”

“Of course.” This was an odd situation for them both after all. If Niamh needed time to assuage her own concerns, who was she to stop her?

“Thank you. Eimear and Cillian will escort you to my desired location for this once you enter the forest. I will see you then.”

Niamh’s siblings found out about her latest plight the moment she returned home.

“Can you believe it, Fergus? Why, I never thought I’d see the day!” Saoirse crowed smugly while her little sister glared balefully between her and their brother.

“Indeed!” Fergus reached out to tousle Niamh’s hair playfully. “A human woman managed to outsmart our usually quick-witted sister! And here I thought the mortals figuring out how to cultivate seedless grapes would be the last thing to surprise me.”

Niamh rolled her eyes when both her siblings guffawed heavily at that, and she ducked between them both to speak with Morrigan—the only person she had actually given permission to be in her quarters with her regarding this.

“You’re certain this is safe then? I won’t somehow manage to hurt her with my powers?”

“Yes, yes. ‘Tis a simple enough matter,” she drawled for the third time. “I fail to see your concern regarding this. You have exceptional control over your abilities after all.”

“I’ve never laid with a mortal before, Morrigan,” she deadpanned. “Pardon my concern over potentially breaching the terms of an exchange by accidentally killing the other party involved.”

“So long as you remember mortals do not have the same amount of endurance as we do, and you allow her to catch a breath every few interludes during the act, I cannot foresee any issue that might occur.” She sniffed dismissively, continuing to sift through the many tomes Niamh kept in her private collection. “Truly, given how fondly you speak of this Leliana, I doubt you would be able to do wrong by her.”

Niamh immediately winced at Morrigan’s statement, knowing the reaction it would have drawn from her siblings, and she was rarely ever proven wrong when it came to them.

“Wait, wait! It’s that human then? The very one she’s been talking about for the past five years?” Saoirse grinned, turning to her older brother. “Fergus, did you hear that?!”

Niamh sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose with irritation as another round of teasing ensued. It was during such moments that she wondered—as she often did—why their mother couldn’t have just made her an only child.

The following night, Leliana’s wolf companions led her to a clearing deep within the woods, where Niamh was already waiting for her. Eimear and Cillian made themselves scarce once she had been delivered safely, but Leliana barely paid them any mind.

It seemed that Niamh had her comfort in mind, for in the middle of the clearing was a simple bedding of luxurious furs to lay upon, surrounded by gentle firelight. Bowls of fruits and other simple snacks laid off to the side along with bottles of various drinks to be sampled before or after the act. As she eyed the goddess standing in the midst of it all, Leliana was determined it would indeed be after as she took the hand offered to her.

Beneath the moonlight, they patiently explored one another upon disrobing together before proceeding to lay upon the furs and establish the beginning of their exchange.

Leliana was no the longer the bumbling, inexperienced child when they had first met. She had laid with others before in the type of hedonism that could only be experienced in a place like Val Royeaux, but as Niamh hovered over her, gently rolling her hips into hers, eyes aglow with such reverence like the full moon overhead, it was like she was experiencing such intimacy for the first time again. This time, however, it was with the woman—the goddess—she had always desired, who willingly worshipped her with caresses and kisses to flushed skin so sweet that it made her heart ache.

Her back arched as Niamh slipped inside her in gentle exploration. Like a musician, she expertly tuned herself to Leliana, testing rhythms and speeds to determine her preference, and when she discovered the perfect tempo, it was almost too much pleasure to bear.

She came undone beneath her, and Niamh swallowed her cries beneath tender kisses. As she was coaxed back down from her climax, all Leliana could wonder was, “How in the world am I ever supposed to let you go once the exchange is completed?”

Niamh proved quite the attentive lover.

Every few rounds, the goddess made certain Leliana kept herself hydrated and had a few bites to eat before continuing on. It was a long night of pleasure, however, and Leliana soon couldn’t discern whether the sweetness on her tongue was from food, drink, or more intimate flesh. For all of Leliana’s experience in intimacy, however, she couldn’t hope to match the immortal stamina of a goddess, but Niamh didn’t fault her need to rest. She merely encouraged her to curl against her side, which she did without complaint, resting her head on a slim shoulder. As she played with the pale collarbone beneath her fingertips, she sighed contentedly as lips pressed themselves against the crown of her head before one of the furs of their bedding was drawn up around them to ward off against the cold.

It had been a memorable night, and she had been sated, so she allowed Niamh’s warmth and the gentle crackling of the fire around them to lull her to sleep.

The light of morning washed over her, and as a warm beam of it crossed her face, her nose wrinkled with displeasure. She reached out beside her, but it isn’t fur, grass, or even another warm body that she felt.

No, it was cold sheets.

Leliana’s eyes snapped open, and she sat up abruptly to find that she was at home and in bed.

Alone.

Something within her proceeded to slowly break in painful increments, confused and bereft by such knowledge. Had last night been nothing more than an elaborate dream? She hissed gently as she shifted atop the sheets, attempting to rise from bed, and the sweet aching of her loins told her the prior evening had been no mere fantasy.

But then why had she been left?

For as much as she had heard about Niamh’s parents over the years, her mother Eleanor had elected to stay on Thedas for a time to raise her children with the man she loved. Was that not the standard among the gods at all then? Or did the exchange require a different perspective of what was to be expected of her?

“Lady Leliana?” a voice called from behind the door. One of her servants. “Will you not be joining Lady Oisine for breakfast this morning?”

She swallowed the lump down in her throat and wet her lips before attempting to speak, carefully making certain her voice didn’t shake. “No, I’m fine, Lydia. I’ve reports to finish. Please give my mother my apologies and have a plate brought to me later this afternoon.”

“Yes, m’lady.”

Leliana heard the footsteps retreating, and she immediately wanted to bury herself in the sheets, but before she could begin to wallow in despair, she heard a caw at the window. She almost dismissed the sound. Ravens weren’t uncommon around the villa after all, but when she turned to shoo it away after another pointed cry, she paused immediately upon seeing the silver eyes on the bird.

It crooked its head, looking at her curiously. Whatever the raven was searching for, she didn’t know. It simply blinked once at her before turning toward the door, and—seemingly satisfied they wouldn’t be disturbed—it flapped its wings and proceeded to fly slowly toward her. As it did, Leliana watched in amazement as the bird shifted—the image of multiple animals flashing across her vision—before coalescing into the form of the goddess she knew.

Intimately now in fact.

Who was looking down at her in concern.

“Are you alright?” Niamh asked.

“You’re…” Leliana’s lips parted. “You’re still here.”

“Of course.” Dark brows furrowed, but she hardly seemed offended. Merely confused. “I wouldn’t have left you alone to carry our child for the next nine months without aid.”

“When I woke up, and you weren’t here with in bed with me after last night, I assumed…” she trailed off, remembering the dread she felt in her heart mere moments ago, wondering if she had perhaps been abandoned to carry the burden alone.

“Ah.” Niamh rubbed the back of her neck sheepishly. “I returned you to your villa just before the sun rose, and then I simply sat at your desk afterward, waiting for you to wake.”

“My desk?” she asked, voice raising incredulously.

“Yes.” Niamh seemed uncertain as she continued speaking. “When we made the deal for the exchange, it was agreed we would lay together to consummate the agreement. Nothing within our verbal contract stated that I would be allowed to lay in your bed, and I didn’t wish to seem rude by presuming otherwise, so I elected to just sit and read until you awoke. When I heard one of the other mortals come up the stairs toward your door, however, I made myself scarce so as to not be found.”

Leliana said nothing at first, her mind still trying to wipe the cobwebs of sleep from it amidst the rush of earlier fear, but Niamh seemed to take her silence as disapproval.

“I’m sorry,” Niamh said. “After so many Ages, it’s simply an ingrained instinct at this point. I normally don’t interact with mortals this close to their homestead, so I immediately just thought to hide myself.”

With belated shock, Leliana realized the other woman’s eyes weren’t glowing anymore in the daylight, but they were still such an amazingly pale shade of grey, which were filled with utmost sincerity. Leliana didn’t move when the woman reached out to cup her face, and when a thumb went to sweep itself across her cheek, she was surprised to see it come away wet.

She hadn’t even realized she’d been crying mere moments ago.

“I am new to relationships such as this,” Niamh continued, “but my need to prevent unwanted questions shouldn’t have superseded your comfort. I apologize. I won’t hurt you like this again. I cannot promise I’ll be perfect in every aspect of this, but I will do my utmost to do right by you.”

So—as expected—Leliana became pregnant after their night together, and Niamh inevitably gets pulled into Orlesian society while trying to keep the mother of her child safe. Every day seems to offer its own lesson as the goddess seeks to adapt to society without giving away what she is.

Thankfully, everyone tends to assume she is a woman of foreign nobility given how she dresses and carries herself, and Leliana doesn’t do much to dissuade such rumors. That those very rumors also pair the other woman with her in more romantic a fashion is much its own bittersweet pain, but if Niamh had ever been aware of them, she doesn’t voice them to her.

For beyond that first night, they hadn’t been to bed together. Niamh would hold her when she slept after discussing their respective days together, yes, and she’d still be there the morning after, but nothing intimate ever occurred between those moments. It’s... a comfortable enough routine, but Leliana always longs for more.

Before her pregnancy begins to show, she requests some needed vacation time from Empress Celene, who approves it without question, citing that while she appreciated her dedication to the empire, she worked far too much at times.

Leliana returns back to her villa by the Waking Sea before long, intending that to be where she eventually gives birth. Niamh, of course, is ever present at her side. Unfortunately, while the Imperial Court remained oblivious to the woman’s actual identity, her mother is not so keen to let the matter go…

“That woman…” Oisine began, looking at her daughter over the rim of her tea cup, “She isn’t what she appears to be, is she?”

Leliana’s first instinct was to lie, but her mother was always clever. Leliana had inherited the same brilliance after all. Still, she sighed.

“Her name is Niamh; that much is true. She is technically nobility—just not in the same way you and I would think of it.”

“What are you saying?”

“She’s the goddess of storms and the night sky, Mother, and she’s quite powerful even among her kind. She’s here to look over me since I made a deal with her.”

Oisine’s features immediately paled. “What? Leliana, I told you the dangers of entering into such things with them!”

“I didn’t have the choice!”

“Did she force you into this?”

“Mother, no!” Niamh was far too considerate a person—too tender a lover—to ever consider something so underhanded, but she could see that her mother couldn’t be readily convinced without more of an explanation. “I did it because you were dying, and there was no other option to save your life!”

“What?”

When she saw that she was only succeeding in confusing her mother, Leliana sighed, and did her best to explain the circumstances surrounding the relationship between her and Niamh, such as how long they actually knew one another, how the goddess had helped her over the years, and why she helped her again when she found her mother likely wouldn’t recover from her illness.

All factors that led to the culmination of her bearing the child of a deity.

“You’re with child,” Oisine breathed in shock.

“Yes.”

“And Lady Niamh…?”

“Is the other parent, yes.”

“Oh, Leliana…” Guilt filled the other woman’s eyes, but Leliana didn’t want it. She would have gladly made the offer again in a heartbeat to save her. “You could have lain with anyone else to have a child, and the exchange would have still been fulfilled. Why do it in such a way?”

“Because it has always been her, Mother. I wanted to know her in such a way even if it was only once, but I’m still mortal. No matter what else I am, no matter my accomplishments, she wouldn’t be able to stay with me forever. I’m under no illusions that when the baby is born, she may very well just leave with them once the promise has been seen through.”

Disapproval was evident on Oisine’s features. “Surely you don’t believe that. Mind you, I may have been curious as to her actual identity, but have you not seen how that woman dotes upon you? How her eyes search for you as soon as you enter a room? She would give you anything you desire if you’d but ask her to stay.”

Leliana turned her head away. “Mother, please!”

She couldn’t afford to hope for this.

It would hurt too much if it didn’t come true.

Of course, as Leliana and Niamh adapt to the idea of being parents together, they realize their feelings for one another may not be as one-sided as they both initially believed.

They catch feelings is what I’m saying here, y’all.

Their relationship, however, isn’t considered official until a proper courtship ritual is done. Niamh’s not allowed to say what that all entails due to some old laws on her world, but Leliana figures it out anyway due to some old story she dug up thanks to her spy network and because she’s simply brilliant.

There’s also some political intrigue back in the world of the gods who want to close off their world from Thedas entirely, which makes Niamh super unhappy. She’ll have to do something regarding that obviously. Who are they to keep her from her beloved Leliana after all?

Then, some other issues might also occur when some individuals in the Imperial Court learn that Leliana’s pregnant. Players in the Great Game can be merciless.

So there’s action, but there’s also plenty of romantic fluff to round it out. The important thing is that Niamh and Leliana work through it together, and they have a healthy baby, and they all get to live happily ever after for a very long time!

So that’s basically it.

Again, like my other AUs, this isn’t as polished as I would like it to be, but your thoughts regarding it are always appreciated! Like it? Hate it? Think I can improve upon it? Is this something you’d like to see me write along with all my other AUs eventually? Let me know!

Seriously, just leave a like, a comment, drop a message in my inbox or the Tumblr messenger, or simply just let me know in an AO3 review. Until next time, guys!

#dragon age #leliana #female cousland/leliana #lee's AU ideas #OTP: What If We Rewrite the Stars?#My writing #fanfic

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yoon-kooks · 5 years

Text

Witch Hazel- Pt.3

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Genre: FanficWriter!Jungkook, Idol!Reader, College!AU, Angst, Fluff

Summary: There are two students in your art class with a secret: you and the quiet Jeon Jungkook. You’re a problematic idol singer, infamous for your ice cold reputation and perpetual resting bitch face; he’s the artist and author behind the viral comic series based on a certain ice queen idol. After a blowup of destructive rumors, lost motivation and inevitable solitude, you stumble upon Jungkook’s comic and find a new and unexpected light.

Word Count: 2.7k

Parts: 1 // 2 // 3 // 4 // 5 // 6 // ?

A/N: i made an unintentional dragon ball z reference at the end of the previous chapter, and now this chapter is loaded with anime references LMAO dont worry if you arent familiar with dbz or sailor moon though!💖

As you approach the entrance to the mall, you have but one wish: Taehyung better show up before Jungkook. Not because you prefer Taehyung, but because you’re terrible at handling small talk and conversation—especially with a timid introvert like Jungkook. You’d rather leave it up to talkative Taehyung to prevent any awkward silences.

Unfortunately for you, however, your wish is not granted. Instead, you spot a bespectacled boy in a bucket hat and white shirt (not a hoodie for once!) sitting on a bench and taking pictures on his phone right outside of the mall. He doesn’t seem to notice you until he looks up from his phone and you’re standing right there with a tiny wave hello. Flustered, he adjusts his glasses and waves back, but that’s the extent of your greetings to one another.

So for the longest thirteen minutes of your life, a huge gap of nothingness sits between you and Jungkook on a wooden bench outside of the mall, waiting for Taehyung to show up. The boy resumes taking photos of the blue sky and the mall itself. You don’t get what’s so photo-worthy about an ordinary sky and the generic architecture of the mall. But then again, this is a boy who also probably has 256GB of storage space dedicated to pictures of his favorite idol (one of which is his lockscreen)—and you certainly don’t understand the appeal of Snow. Therefore, you do not bother asking the boy about his reasons for wasting storage space on certain photos. You wouldn’t understand anyway.

And since Jungkook is too busy using his phone for photos at one end of the bench, you decide to use your phone to text the missing boy from the opposite end of the bench.

10:13AM Y/N “Taehyung, it’s past 10. Where are you??”

10:14AM Taehyung “On my way baby. And don’t worry, I promise I’ll make it worth the wait 😉”

As both a desired and disliked idol, you’ve been called a lot of things: beauty, bitch, babe, ice queen, slut, witch. And you’ve put up with it because you feel like, to some degree, you brought it upon yourself. But you’re wondering what you did to deserve a “baby” from Taehyung. Because the last thing you want is for someone who’s kind-of-not-really your friend to make any sort of romantic advances on you when they know nothing about you.

10:15AM Y/N “Who are you calling baby.”

10:16AM Taehyung “?”

10:17AM Taehyung “But you were fine with it the other night 🍆💦”

10:18AM Jungkook “monkaS”

10:19AM Taehyung “Wait”

10:19AM Y/N “What’s a monkas”

10:20AM Taehyung “Oops wrong chat LOL”

10:21AM Taehyung “Anyway I already told you guys yesterday that I wasn’t coming to the group project thing. I’m busy.”

He sends a screenshot of the group chat where he very clearly had said he wasn’t free. You must’ve missed that text somehow—a fatal mistake on your end because now you’re alone at the mall with Jungkook and it’s damn near impossible to talk to that kid when you can’t even relate to him. At least Taehyung could’ve broken the ice, but of course he’s too busy getting laid.

10:22AM Y/N “Can’t you fuck around later?”

10:23AM Jungkook “poggers”

10:24AM Y/N “What’s a poggers”

10:24AM Taehyung “Sorry I need at least 2 business days to cancel or change an appointment. I’m a man of my word, not a monster ¯\_(ツ)_/¯”

10:25AM Taehyung “But have fun on your date without me~”

10:26AM Jungkook “it’s not a date”

10:26AM Y/N “It’s not a date.”

At least you and Jungkook can both agree that it isn’t a date. But that doesn’t change the fact that you’re stuck hanging out with him for a few hours to “get to know each other” for your stupid art project. How are you even supposed to get to know the boy when there’s nothing to talk about?

“What’s a monkas and poggers?” you ask, because your antisocial mind can’t think of anything else to say once the spam of text messages ends.

“Oh that…” Jungkook looks back down at his phone, scrolling through the text conversation to track down his cryptic messages. “It just means like oh my god and stuff.”

“In what language?” you attempt to keep the small talk going. But from the look of Jungkook’s shifty eyes, it seems you’ve probed too far.

“Gaming... language…”

“Oh.” As far as you can tell by his brief responses, the boy would rather not elaborate further. So you let the conversation die.

Instead, the two of you begin wandering around the mall, hoping it’ll spark any sort of conversation. Of course it doesn’t.

At least not initially.

For exactly 16 minutes (you would know because you’d been checking your phone every other minute as if time would pass any faster that way), you and Jungkook aimlessly walk around the mall without saying a word. And it isn’t until a new shop fills Jungkook’s eyes with sparkles that you spot an opportunity to make something happen.

The shop window is decorated with the cutest recognizable characters: Pikachu, Totoro, Naruto, Sailor Moon, and all their friends. The boy appears to have his eye on the green dragon summoned from seven Dragon Balls. He doesn’t say anything, but it’s obvious he’s interested.

Knowing him, he’d say no if you asked him if he wanted to go inside, in fear of being a burden and wasting your time. So you find a loop hole.

“Let’s go in here,” you say. He nods, obediently following you in but keeping a safe distance. While he’d say no to his own desires, he has a hard time saying no to what everyone else wants. Sounds familiar.

The first thing you see when you walk in is the magic girl section. As someone who grew up admiring Sailor Moon, you would’ve liked to have scouted out that section for nostalgic purposes. The only thing stopping you is the hoard of weebs in that corner. Jungkook, on the other hand, goes right in.

As he joins the frenzy over waifus and body pillows, you shake your head and make a U-turn towards the section with ninjas, pirates, dragon slayers, and Saiyans. The seven plastic Dragon Balls call out to you, just as they had to Jungkook before he got distracted by pink-haired heroines. If you could have one wish granted with the magic of the Dragon Balls, what would you even wish for? There’s not much that you want, except for maybe a life you don’t feel ashamed of. But not even magic would be able to help you with that.

Sighing, you pick up a display model of one of the Dragon Ball fighters and replace his natural black hair with spiky blonde hair to transform him into a Super Saiyan, an almighty hero to protect the world.

“What exactly is the science behind turning blonde when they unleash their Super Saiyan strength?” you mumble to yourself… and the quiet boy next to you. He has a tiny shopping bag with him, so at least you know he didn’t splurge on a body pillow.

“From an artist’s perspective, it makes it easier for people to distinguish between different power levels. Especially in the comics where it’s black and white, so…” Jungkook’s rambling fades out when he realizes you might not be interested in his weeby-artist mind.

“That makes sense,” you say, still fumbling around with the Super Saiyan’s spiky blonde hair. You’d thought maybe it meant something more significant. As if changing one’s appearance could make them stronger by hiding who they really are. “But I suppose not all plot details need to be that deep.”

He nods and picks up another Dragon Ball character, the bald kid with six dots on his head, and wiggles it in your direction. “Is this the kind of anime you’re into?”

You can’t help but sneer at the random but mysterious six dots on the bald head. “This and Sailor Moon.”

Jungkook’s magic girl radar goes off when you mention Sailor Moon. “Oh, so like heroes and stuff?”

“I guess,” you answer, though you’ve never really thought about it that way. It’s not like you intentionally sought out for anything involving superheroes, but it’s something you’d always been naturally drawn to. “Though it seems a bit childish to say it out loud, doesn’t it?”

“I’m sure everyone has wished to be a hero at some point in their life,” the boy says, glancing back at the seven Dragon Balls. “After all, heroes give us something to admire and believe in.”

“Exactly.” You set the Super Saiyan back down on the shelf and stare at the glammed-up Sailor Moon beauties from afar. For just a split second, you’re reminded of your fateful decision to become Snow. “Kind of like idols, right?”

Jungkook flinches, clutching onto his shopping bag as if you’re lowkey judging him for being obsessed with not only pretty idols, but also pretty magic girls. You weren’t planning on bringing up the topic of idols because it can be quite toxic for yourself, but it somehow slipped out of your mouth in the presence of the biggest Snow fanboy. Oops.

“Yeah, kinda…” He lets out a half-laugh, but it sounds forced, only to fill another round of awkward silence as you both exit the anime shop. Great, you’ve brought up another touchy subject and now the boy’s back on lockdown. And just when the two of you were starting to get on the same page.

“I mean… I used to look up to the Sailor Moon characters… because they were my idols… my heroes…” you stumble over your words in an attempt to salvage any momentum you had built up with Jungkook. Surely this is something the weeb can relate to and not feel bad about now that you’ve exposed a bit of your dark past.

“Really?” He tilts his head and eases his grip on the shopping bag. “Who’s your bias—I mean favorite—of the Sailor Scouts?”

You assume he’s asking because your favorite can say a lot about you. Do you prefer crybabies like Sailor Moon, smarties like Mercury, hotheads like Mars, muscles like Jupiter, or perhaps the one who fantasizes over becoming an idol? “Sailor Venus.”

Before responding, Jungkook shuffles through his shopping bag and pulls out a tiny keychain of Sailor Venus with her pretty long hair and orange sailor suit. “Me too.”

You wonder what that says about Jeon Jungkook.

By the time lunch comes around, long silences still follow into the food court but somehow you feel less pressure to fill in the gaps. You’re simply okay with being in the boy’s company. Something about it is almost as refreshing as the iced tea you’re sipping on.

As you down your drink, you stare intently at the tall stack of pancakes across from you. The boy’s plate of fluffy delicacies has to be quadruple the size of your tiny salad bowl that you ordered out of habit.

“Um… do you want some?” Jungkook points to his pancakes, but his eyes are glued to your lips—probably because of the drool and not because you share the same pout as Snow.

“No thanks, I’m trying to eat healthier, and I already splurged on pancakes the other day,” you sigh. Even though you've taken a step back from idol life, you feel the need to maintain your image and health for the sake of fans who may worry about you. It’s in your blood, and sometimes you hate yourself for it. “But honestly, you’re really tempting me, you know.”

“Here.” Before you can refuse, Jungkook plops one of his pancakes onto the rim of your salad bowl. “It kinda defeats the purpose of dieting if it makes you unhappy, right? But that’s why cheat days exist~”

“That’s true.” You take a single bite of your pancake, savoring its subtle sweetness. You can’t remember the last time you found pure bliss in something as simple as pancakes without worry. “Thanks, Jung-”

You’re cut off by the fact that the boy’s stack of pancakes vanished, only leaving traces of syrup on the plate and a cute little crumb on the corner of his lips.

“Did you just inhale all your food while I took one (1) bite?”

He swallows the food in his mouth and takes a sip of his milk. “Maybe.”

You don’t know whether to be shocked or impressed, but it made you giggle either way. “You’re a funny guy, you know that?”

Flustered, the boy scurries off to dispose of his food tray. You rarely hand out compliments, and maybe this is why. It probably seems too out of character for someone like yourself, and Jungkook’s fragile little heart can’t handle it.

You punch yourself in the face until Jungkook walks back to the table. Seeing as you’ve only started making a dent in your lunch, he captures a few more photos on this phone, this time of the mall interior and food court. Then he pulls out his sketchbook.

He begins by mapping out a blank page with light lines and dots. Little by little, he adds in the tables, the people, the food. And before you know it, he has the whole food court sketched out and you haven’t even touched your salad yet.

“Are you into architecture? Or like exterior & interior design?” You don’t exactly know the proper art terms for whatever Jungkook’s drawing, but it would explain why he always seems to be taking photos of wherever he goes.

“Yeah, architecture and design are cool.” He shrugs and doesn’t sound all that convincing. So he diverts the spotlight back onto you. “By the way, I mean this in the least offensive way possible, but you’re not an art major, right?”

“Are you saying that because I’m shitty at art?” you pretend to be offended, but you know he’s not the malicious type. “Or because I’m always carrying a guitar to class?”

“The latter.” You see a tiny smirk on the boy’s face as he continues to add in details to his sketch. He’d never say it, but you can tell he’s also thinking your art is complete trash. “Is it music theory? Or just guitar? Or songwrit-”

Bing! Your phone notification saves you from a potentially loaded question about an uncertain future in music, and you couldn’t be more grateful. It’s a new Witch Hazel update from jk.seagull.

You glance over to Jungkook, expecting him to have the same notification on his phone. But he doesn’t. “I would’ve expected you of all people to have notifications turned on for Witch Hazel.”

“Really? Is it because you think I’m that in love with Snow?” It’s Jungkook’s turn to pretend to be offended. You’re glad to see him lightening up and not taking things to heart.

“Are you not in love with Snow?” you tease. Jungkook freezes and so do you. Why the fuck would you ever ask him if he’s in love with an extension of yourself? You don’t want to hear the answer because it’ll hurt you either way. “Nevermind, don’t answer that.”

You quickly skim jk.seagull’s beautiful comic-style artwork and stop at a panel of Snow and the new bunny boy character squaring up.

“But doesn’t this look like something right up your alley?” You flip your phone around to let the boy see the cute art.

“Does it?” Jungkook looks up from his sketchbook and puts down his pencil.

“Yeah, it feels like it would be more your style than realistic architecture would,” you say, although his sketch of the food court is somehow more gorgeous than the actual food court itself. “But I don’t know… You’d be fine with anything in the art field, to be honest.”

To your surprise, the boy shakes his head at your phone screen. “I’m not cut out for something like that.”

“Coming from the best artist in our class,” you say unconvinced. He has to be joking. Or maybe just overly modest. “Obviously I don’t know how you are with storytelling and stuff, but your art is undeniably incredible. And you have a lot of passion and knowledge for comics and anime…”

“Thanks, Y/N, but I don’t think that’s the problem.”

#bts scenarios #bts fanfic #bts imagines #bts angst #bts fluff #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x reader #bts college au #jungkook #bts #bangtan #witch hazel

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phosphorescent-naidheachd · 4 years

Text

I saw TROS earlier today and, well, it was definitely a Star Wars sequel movie, for better and for worse. I can see why some people on my dash hated this movie and why some of them loved it. I can also see why some of them threw their hands into the air over it and shrugged. (FYI, I’m in the third category.) More scattered and spoiler-laden thoughts below the cut:

--“Never underestimate a droid.” This line would have been so much more meaningful if the spy had turned out to be a First Order droid rather than Hux. A droid that had broken free of its programming, just like Finn (and later Jannah and the other unnamed former stormtroopers). But as always, the Droid Revolution that we deserve is probably never going to be a thing, at least not onscreen where it counts.

--Just like TFA, the copy-and-pasting from the Original Trilogy was painfully obvious, but what was forgivable in the first film of a new trilogy is less so in said trilogy’s concluding film.

--Trần Loan/Rose deserved more screentime and prominence. And did we really have to turn Poe into a former spice runner? Really? *sighs heavily*

--Zorii Bliss felt sort of shoehorned in? I didn’t hate her, but it felt like TPTB only introduced her to give Poe another person to flirt with. And I say this as someone who was not expecting PoeFinn or any other LGBTQIAP+ relationship between named characters to be made canon in this movie at all. Hopefully fans will give her more depth in fic!

--Jannah was really interesting and I would have loved to see more of her. Once again, hopefully fans will take her character and deepen/explore it in fic.

--LANDO!

--Finn was all but explicitly confirmed as Force sensitive, and it’s What He Deserves.

--I mean, Finn also deserved his own storyline and a stronger conclusion to his character arc in this film, especially considering he was promoted as one of the leads of the sequel trilogy. But while I’m irked that he was relegated to a side character, I can’t say I didn’t see this coming, especially after TLJ.

--Likewise, I knew Reyl0 was going to be a thing after TLJ. I found their relationship less grating than Anida1a in the prequels, but it still didn’t do much of anything for me in this film. Do I understand from an objective POV why some people enjoy it so much? Yep. It’s the grand, tortured, Byronic Romance™, where it isn’t really about whether the characters have anything in common or even like each other, it’s about their near-mystical connection and their inability (and lack of true desire) to be rid of it; it’s about the lengths to which they will go for each other/themselves; it’s about the powerful man who is emotionally vulnerable and eager to serve his True Love at the expense of all else. It’s also the whole enemies-to-lovers trope, and so on. I understand the appeal of this mashup intellectually, it’s just not my cup of tea here. YMMV and all that, and that’s as it should be.

--Palpatine back from death is as ridiculous here as it was in the old EU, but I can roll with it. I think the movie made the right decision not to explain all the nitty-gritty details of how he cheated death or manipulated the whole Snoke deal... ultimately, it doesn’t really matter, y’know? Ditto to Rey Palpatine lol.

--Leia’s death felt pretty narratively cheap to me, but I understand that there was only so much TPTB could do with the footage they already had of Carrie Fisher in costume. Still, poor Leia. She drew a deeply shitty hand in life, didn’t she?

--That said, it was nice to see Leia training as a Jedi in flashbacks, however briefly. (Is it just me, or did her saber hilt vaguely resemble Obi-Wan’s?) Does it make a lot less sense that she would then send Ben away to Luke if she’s had Jedi training? Yes. Can I created headcanons to explain this? Also yes. And do I really care about this particular inconsistency when there are far worse ones out there and this one makes dudebro sections of the fandom spitting mad? NOPE.

--I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: I’m not inherently against the redemption of Kylo/Ben. But, as I had suspected/feared, they “redeemed” him at the narrative expense of other characters I personally find more interesting... and they still didn’t manage to make said redemption feel narratively earned to me. Is there undoubtedly ancillary material in SW books and comics that give more background behind Kylo/Ben’s turn to the Dark Side and eventual turn back to the Light? Yes. Do I want to read it? Not really, no. Also, unless something happens onscreen in the SW universe, it doesn’t really count as true canon. So it’s disappointing that the movie shoved other characters and plots to the side to make room for Kylo/Ben’s redemption arc and then didn’t even do a good job with it. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

--Also, of course TPTB had Kylo/Ben die saving someone rather than narratively deal with what it means to work towards redemption after having done lots of terrible things, and having to recover from having been manipulated/groomed by Sidious. Not surprised in the slightest.

--I would have preferred a Stormtrooper Rebellion storyline, but I’m not going to blast TROS or the sequel trilogy for being what it is rather than what I wanted it to be. I will, however, blast it for its sloppy execution of its existing storylines. Which leads to my next point...

--Even though TROS was long, it still felt rushed and, like the first two movies in this trilogy, it felt largely disconnected from the other sequel trilogy films. The Star Wars Story Group really should have planned this trilogy out better. If TPTB were going to go with two different directors/writers, they should have made sure said directors/writers were on the same page rather than seemingly fighting each other’s visions of what the overarching story should be at every step.

--I’m willing to handwave a lot of stuff that happens in TROS, mainly because I’m long past expecting coherence from this franchise... or pretty much any major franchise, tbh. (For instance: Thousands of people show up to aid the Resistance when Lando calls them but not when Leia did in TLJ? OK. Force Ghost Luke shows up to catch Rey’s lightsaber but not to help her against Palpatine? Sure.) These issues don’t really make or break the series for me, so I can work with them with a minimum of grumbling. Which isn’t quite the same thing as letting TPTB off the hook for their laziness and inconsistencies.

--Honestly, I hate to say it, but it would have made for a stronger story if Chewie had died aboard the ship when Rey and Kylo/Ben were fighting over it; that would have driven home the consequences of Rey’s lack of control and lessened the artificiality of the stakes in this movie. But I get that this is ultimately a family film, so it’s more of a minor quibble than anything else.

--It’s kind of weird that Rey’s hair is back in the three buns again for the entirety of TROS after she wore her hair differently for almost all of TLJ. But that’s a fairly minor quibble too, and one of the sort I can easily create a headcanon to explain. Actually, come to think of it, I wonder if they didn’t do this at least partially to be able to recycle some of the unused TFA clips with Leia and Rey?

--Frankly, I’m not sure why Rey suddenly cared so much about what Luke thought, considering A. he was a huge jerk to her for most of TLJ, and B. she seemed to have broken with following his advice towards the end of TLJ. And since she didn’t have a great relationship with Luke, it seems weird that she’d take his last name. Shouldn’t she have gone with Organa or even Solo, if she’s naming herself after a mentor? But whatever, I get that it’s about the symbolism more than the character or logic. And I can create headcanons to explain all of this.

--It’s a little weird that there wasn’t any more resolution to Kylo/Ben’s storyline and Rey’s feelings about it after his death. But with Leia dead, I guess there isn’t anyone left who’d especially care if Kylo/Ben turned back to the Light aside from Rey herself. Still, there should have been something more. Especially since Ben didn’t show up as a Force Ghost alongside Luke and Leia on Tatooine.

--While I’m at it, I wish we could have had a minute’s conversation with Rey telling Finn about her heritage, if only because I think he would have understood. But I wish we could have learned more about Finn’s heritage (which didn’t need to be a known SW lineage, btw) too, so...

--For that matter, I wish we could have had Finn get a chance to tell Rey about his being Force Sensitive, which might have made her feel slightly less alone. I wish we could have seen Finn figure out what being Force Sensitive meant to him. And so on.

--Not sure where people are getting the idea that Lando & Jannah were flirting, because I didn’t read their interaction that way at all.

--General Poe and General Finn were great, but also sort of felt unearned after the events of TLJ.

--The abilities that come from being part of a Dyad are overpowered and a little silly, but hey, they’re also following a long-established SW tradition of overpowered silliness, so... *shrugs*

--Confused as to why Rey suddenly killed Kylo/Ben when she did?? I mean, if it was because she was angry Leia had just died, wouldn’t that be acting from the Dark Side and shouldn’t that have, idk, narrative consequences for her?

--I don’t see why some people loved or hated Rey’s ending so much. It’s pretty open, IMO, just like the endings for all of the surviving characters. Who says Rey is going to stay on Tatooine or be alone there, after all? For all we know, she just stopped there for a few days to bury the lightsabers, grieve for Kylo/Ben, and meditate. For all we know, Finn or one of her other friends from the Resistance is going to drop in any moment now. Heck, for all we know, one of her friends is hanging out inside the Falcon where we can’t see them, giving her a little space. (Was her friendship with Finn and Poe depicted pretty shallowly in this movie? Yeah. But so was her relationship with Kylo/Ben tbh, even with the Dyad Force bond thingamajig.) Rey has a whole world of choices available to her. Does it suck that we didn’t get to see that onscreen? Yeah. Does it mean she’s doomed to be eternally lonely as a hermit on a desert planet? Not in the slightest.

--Someone really needs to tell the writers of these big franchises that using ring structure is pointless if there isn’t meaning behind it. There’s nothing inherently significant about repeating events or revisiting locations.

--Overall, I felt pretty meh about TROS. I didn’t love it or hate it. As with any movie in a series, there’s good stuff to be mined from it, and bad stuff to be handwaved away or given headcanon explanations. But mostly, I just can’t dredge up the energy to care very much. And I’m not in the mood for TROS fix-it fanfiction so much as I am TROS crack fics.

--I haven’t talked about everything that worked or didn’t work for me in TROS here, but if you have any questions, I’m always happy to answer them to the best of my abilities!

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isolaradiale · 5 years

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In the always-glittering streets of the Golden Ward, there were many things that got lost in the shuffle. Money and trinkets, to be sure, but common sense and no small bit of morality were often tossed by the wayside in some of the more lively and shadowed sections of the area. It was truly a playground of both the wealthy and the downtrodden---a place where someone could gain it all and lose everything in the blink of an eye.

It made sense that such a place was the favored den of K’horii the Merrymaker, especially since the only one he sought to make truly happy was himself and the thing that pleased him most was the suffering of anyone and everyone around him.

But as he looked down from his perch atop the roof of the Golden Dawn, he found himself frustrated. The daily bustling of the crowd was normally enough to sate his need for watching the rise and fall of the unfortunate inhabitants of the sector below, but these days, it all seemed so pedestrian. There was no excitement to it. Ever since the little foray into the pit of the dead with Athemia a few months ago, he’d found himself wanting more, but it seemed the population wasn’t willing to oblige him.

“Well. If you want something done right, I suppose you do have to do it yourself.”

The evening had barely begun in the central entertainment district when people found themselves looking at their surroundings with no mild bit of concern. All around the area, lights flickered rapidly, as if someone were constantly toying with the controls. Television screens and monitors and cell phones flashed between static and images that one could only describe as something they’d only dreamed of in horrible nightmares. Speakers dotted around the city rang out with a haunting melody, like the theme song to some horror-themed amusement park.

And then, they appeared.

Rising like little dots of light, the creatures seemed to almost pulled themselves out of the ground with a comical ‘pop’---small balloons that almost looked like cheerful and bubbly animated cats, except for the grotesque smiles painted on every one of their faces that promised they were much more than they seemed. They proved it when they all began to fly through the air randomly, leaving nothing but chaos in their wake.

Cars screeched and squealed to avoid smashing into them. Windows were shattered as they burst into storefronts. Parkgoers screamed as some of them chased away ride operators and took the controls for themselves, sending riders on terror-filled rides at speeds they were never meant to reach.

In an instant, the entirety of Golden had turned from a playground into utter chaos. And the one responsible for all of it was gladly taking center stage.

Atop the spire of the Dome, a monstrous cat-like creature crawled into place, all three of eyes glittering with dangerous intent. Every electronic device in the Ward suddenly bore its image as it settled into place and smiled pleasantly with a maw that had far too many teeth.

“Greetings and salutations to you, my dear captive audience. I have little doubt you’re enjoying my playground and all of its wonderful staff.

“Allow me to introduce myself. I have many names---the Mad Merrymaker, the Prince of Lunacy, the Denizen of Delirium---but I am better known to you mortals as K’horii. For this little excursion, however, you are free to call me Gamemaster.

“You see, you are all now players in a wonderful new game I’ve just come up with! We shall call it ‘Princes and Paupers.’ This Ward so loves to make or break people in a various sundry of ways, so why not make a game of it.

“The rules are quite simple! You merely have to kill my adorable little helpers wandering among you to collect points. If you have enough points by the end of the game, you’ll win a wonderful prize! What prize is that, you ask? Why, you continue to live the life you’ve known so far! There’s no greater gift than life itself, or so you mortals say.”

At the creature’s words, dissension brewed nearly automatically. Shouts of anger and disbelief rang out across the Ward, but many of them were silenced as small watch-like bands appeared on the wrists of every inhabitant, a counter blinking ominously on its display.

“I shall take your grumbling as the need for some method to keep track of your points in my lovely game. I have granted you such a device. I call it a ‘Catculator.’” The god laughed uproariously at his own pun, but stopped himself short just as quickly as he began.

“Rest assured, dear players, that this game is very real. Your fleeting bit of existence is on the line. If you require proof of that, I bid you watch ever so closely.”

He sent a paw crashing into the structure below and when he pulled it out again, one poor soul struggled in the grip of its claws. The device on his wrist began to glow with a sickly green light, but soon, his entire body was covered in green flames. Screaming out in terror, his hysterics quickly turned to yowls and screeches as he was transformed into a horribly sad-looking creature, a deformed thing that looked like some abominable cross between a cat and a man.

“This is the fate that awaits the paupers in this game: life as some unwanted thing too horrible to even look upon. Although, from experience, I can say they do taste much better than they look.

“But enough of that. There are rules that must be told! The first is that, of course, if you leave the area of play, you are automatically made a pauper and will meet your appropriate fate. The second is that you may steal points from other players! How, you ask? By killing them, of course. There are only so many points to be had in our game and you do want the chance to survive, don’t you? So play as hard or as smartly as you wish! Band together and survive, if you like! Just make sure to be above the threshold before time is up. Good luck!”

The broadcast ended as soon as the god finished speaking, leaving a sense of foreboding lingering over the crowd. Some people worked to remove the bracelets and some refused to believe the event was happening at all. But among the haze of disbelief, the harassment of the miniature menaces continued, refusing to let people consider their situation for long.

And all the while, the Merrymaker looked on, completely entertained for the first time in far too long.

Welcome to our latest mini-event, Pandemonium! We hope you’ll have fun with this little game (and the new lore).

So what’s going on?

Essentially, anyone and everyone inside Golden Ward at the beginning of the announcement has been roped into playing “Princes and Paupers,” a game devised by K’horii. The object of the game is to destroy the balloon summons that have appeared throughout the Ward to collect points. Those who have enough points at the end of the game will not be harmed; those who don’t will be transmogrified into a horrible creature. Fun, right?

How does this work?

Quite simply: White balloons are worth 100 points. Black balloons take 100 points away from you. You can focus on trying to pop as many white balloons as possible or you could strategize and use the black balloons against others… It’s all up to you. And, as K’horii stated, it is possible to completely steal another player’s points by killing them outright. But no one would go that far, right? Right.

Additionally, while this game is only being forced upon people in Golden Ward, all communications to other Wards are still open, meaning you can call in help. Of course, anyone who enters the Ward at that point becomes a player themselves. Please note that if you were in the Ward from the beginning of the game or enter it, you cannot leave it until the game is over.

You will have until midnight on 4/7 to get your participation in this event. Additionally, there will be no extensions. Good luck and have fun!

Frequently Asked Questions

Will my character really be transformed into something else if I lose?

Haha. Heehee. Hoho.

What’s the threshold we have to reach?

Only K’horii knows that. For now, you’re expected to gather as many points as possible.

Can we team up for this?

Yes and it’s completely encouraged! It might be wiser to work in numbers if you can develop a good enough strategy.

Will there be a reward for this?

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

#isola event: pandemonium #ir event: pandemonium #modnote #isola event

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korora12 · 5 years

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Tagged by @corisanna

1. What is your favorite relationship type to write/read? Romantic, platonic, familial, and any subtypes.

I like romantic relationships that don’t rely solely or primarily on physical attraction, but instead on a deep similarity between the two characters. I like when two people meet eyes and realize that “You understand me. You get me better than anyone else I’ve ever met, and I feel less lonely knowing that someone else sees the world the same way I do.”

2. How much or what kind of research do you do for your fiction? If you don’t write, has a fic ever made you curious enough to research something?

Only as much as is necessary. I usually use research as a springboard for inspiration when I hit a block, letting myself wander the fields of Wikipedia until I stumble upon something that knocks the block loose.

Of course, sometimes I research stuff just for fun, with no relation to my writing whatsoever, until some random point down the line where it suddenly does and I’m super happy I already know [Random Fact #237].

3. What was the first work of fiction you remember becoming completely engrossed in?

Hmm. Probably Animorphs. I remember doing everything I could to hunt down the numerous books in the series (back in the ancient, pre-Amazon Prime days). I’d prowl the various school and public libraries near me, ask for specific books in the series for Christmas and birthdays, and even buy the occasional book at the yearly Scholastic Book Fairs, using what little money I got for an allowance.

I made it most of the way through the series, but then there was one book, near the end, that I couldn’t find, no matter how hard I looked. And it was an important, plot-changing, book that I had to read before continuing. Which meant I never actually finished the series.

Of course, nowadays you can find them all online as pdfs. Maybe I should revisit the series sometime and finally finish it. I already know how it ends, but I still feel like those last few books deserve to be read.

4. What work(s) had a lasting influence on you or your writing style?

Going back to Animorphs again. There is a straight-line connection between me reading that series as a child, through my elementary school friends Brooke, who was obsessed with dogs, and Caitlin, who was even more obsessed with dolphins (I used to find pictures of dolphins in magazines and cut them out just to give to her), through my Grandma’s love of science, all the way to my decision to study Zoology in college. If I had never read those books, I wouldn’t have developed the passion for animals and animal behavior that has shaped my life for over two decades.

Also, stylistically speaking, I really respect that series for how it treated its readers. Its target audience was grade schoolers, and yet it never shied away from showing the realities of violence and war. I don’t know that I’ll ever write children’s literature, but I’ll always have this series to remind me of what kids are capable of understanding and handling.

5. What kind of sound environment do you prefer for writing/reading? Silent, white noise, music with/without words, sitting in a public place with the ambient noise of humanity, etc.

Depends on how well my brain is cooperating. Pure silence is ideal, but more often than not there’s some manner of song stuck on repeat in the background of my mind, and the only way to drown it out is with non-lyrical music of some sort. Usually I try to pick songs that match the mood of whatever scene I’m trying to write.

6. Are you or do you like authors who are teases, in story or out?

¯\_(ツ)_/¯ I’m a big fan of the Death of the Author trope, so I tend not to get too worked up by whatever the author may be saying and just let the story speak for itself.

My first instinct is to say that an author shouldn’t worry too much about what their fans think and should write the story they want to write, and it will find readers that appreciate it. However, I recognize that the nature of serial online writing, such as fanfiction, changes the game a bit. Such authors have a much more immediate, direct connection with their readers than authors who release one or two physical books every year or so. Some authors take that to an extreme, turning stories almost into a dialogue with their readers, each new chapter in some way defined by how people reacted to the previous one. And that doesn’t even touch on Quests, a type of story on forums sites such as Spacebattles and Sufficient Velocity that require player input on a regular basis to continue. In these types of situations, I can hardly blame an author for playing with their readers heads a bit. The reactions they have can be a form of entertainment all their own.

7. Have you ever experienced a “the characters write themselves” or “character rebellion” mental state?

Not yet. For the time being, I remain in complete control of my universes, but I recognize the hubris of assuming this to be a permanent state.

8. Do you have a favorite franchise crossover? Like Bleach/Harry Potter, Madoka Magica/Card Captor Sakura, etc.

I don’t know if I have a particular favorite. I was really fond of Secret Trio for a while, which is Danny Phantom, American Dragon Jake Long, and Randy Cunningham 9th Grade Ninja. I’m still very fond of the Disney/Square Enix megacrossover that is Kingdom Hearts, despite being very disappointed in the most recent game in the series. Then there’s Kino’s Journey/Anything, mostly because I love Kino’s Journey, and I love seeing her response/reaction to various other worlds.

Also, Stargate/Anything. The only reason I ever started watching the show was because I’d read several different fics, all in different fandoms (Avatar, Yu-Gi-Oh, Star Wars, Naruto), and all of which crossed over with Stargate. Despite the similarities, both being sci-fi stories set around the turn of the millennium involving mind-controlling aliens, I’ve yet to see a good Stargate/Animorphs crossover. It’d be pretty easy to do, too. There’s a point in the Animorphs series where they decide to bring knowledge of their guerrilla war to the attention of the US government. If they’re already in the Stargate universe, I’m sure the president will quickly pass the problem along to the experts, and suddenly you’ve got the perfect setup of adults who think they know how to handle the problem, are mostly right, and don’t want kids fighting in a war, vs child soldiers who have no intention of giving up the fight so near its end, even if the adults are more competent than they expected.

I’m gonna have to write it myself, one of these days, if no one else gets around to doing it.

9. Do you remember anything about the first fanfic you ever read?

Two Halves by DameWren. My first fandom was Naruto, and my first fanfic was a NaruHina fic that both introduced me to the concept of fandom, and also sold the ship for me in a way that I’ve never shaken. I remember very little beyond that, except that it managed to correctly predict that Naruto would go on a training trip, despite being written before such an event happened in canon.

10. Is there a work of fiction that you are annoyed doesn’t have much if any fic? Like Bizenghast.

Kino’s Journey, Cowboy Bebop, Double Arts (just never got enough attention in general)

11. What fictional character do you strongly identify with?

Weiss Schnee, from RWBY. While I’ve never been accused of being rich, I am a middle child with a much older sister that cut ties with the family when I was young and a younger brother that I never got along with while growing up. My parents were also abusive, my father physically and both of them emotionally, and they taught me a number of unhealthy ideas about race, amongst other things, that I’ve had to put serious effort into unlearning. And I have, since becoming an adult, traveled long distances across the world, partially for my own benefit, and partially to distance myself physically from a family I’ve never felt particularly close to, resulting in a drastic personality shift that took a couple years to complete, but ultimately left me a very different, and much better, person.

So, yeah, Weiss is basically my favorite RWBY character, and one I really need to write more often, all things considered.

That was fun! I’ve never been tagged in anything like this before. My turn for questions!

1. What is your the most recent fandom you’ve gotten involved in? Have you made any content for it?

2. Do you have a favorite AU/plotline that you love regardless of fandom (ie. Peggy Sue, Coffee Shop AU, Space AU, Self-Insert)? What about it do you like?

3. If you write, how do you go about deciding a character’s sexuality? If not, do you ever have any sexuality headcanons for characters?

4. What’s the longest fanfic that you’ve ever read, beginning to end?

5. How often do you make something you’re proud of? Doesn’t have to be writing, just has to be something that wouldn’t exist if you hadn’t made it yourself.

6. What are your opinions on OCs in fanfiction?

7. What is your favorite storytelling medium (ie. television, written word, spoken word, video games, song, etc.)?

8. What was the last song you had stuck in your head, and what was it about?

9. Do you prefer reading/writing stories set in fictional worlds, or stories set in the real world/real world analogous (ie. Supernatural or Marvel Comics)?

10. If you could bring one fictional character into the real world, who would it be and why?

11. Pick your favorite of the questions I was asked to answer for yourself.

I just realized that I don’t know how many of my followers are writers. I guess @hunkygoddess @tmifangirl21 @queendarktigress @ladyvallhalla @i-mushi @xekstrin @shinobicyrus and anyone else who sees this and might be interested. No pressure, it’s just for fun!

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twentyghosts · 5 years

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Fanfic Stats

I was tagged by @trammelsb! Thanks!

This is interesting because I usually do a year-end fic meme but I’m not sure I’ve done one like this for my entire ~body of work~.

Author name: heyjupiter

Fandoms I write for: MCU, X-Men movieverse, occasional other Marvel comics, Breaking Bad. (I’d say Breaking Bad is probably a past-tense wrote for fandom at this point, but who knows? Never say never. Especially if/when they release the movie?!)

Where I post: AO3. I do have some older abandoned stuff on FFN but...AO3.

Most popular one shot: By kudos, it’s Late Registration, which is a bit weird--it’s a little bit of fluff that I coughed up for @sciencebrosweek last year. It’s certainly not the best thing I’ve ever written, but who can predict the invisible hand of fandom? By hits, it’s Five Times Mike Ehrmantraut Was Surprised By Jesse Pinkman (And One Time He Wasn't), which is the first canon-compliant Breaking Bad fic I wrote, and something I definitely spent way more time writing than Late Registration. But it has almost 23,000 hits which is like.....18,000 more hits than anything else I’ve ever written?? And I don’t know why??? And it definitely does not have a commensurate amount of kudos. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Most popular multi-chapter story: It’s To Protect & To Serve, which I wouldn’t have expected? It’s a Breaking Bad story I wrote for a Blue Christmeth gift, except I was uncomfortable with the original request (which shipped Jesse/Mike) so I turned into a gen Jesse & Mike story that was meant to be a one-shot, but enough people asked for more that I ended up turning it into a 10-chapter story? Which I don’t usually start posting longer stories until I’m finished writing them, so it was kind of fun to fly by the seat of my pants like that. But also nerve-wracking!

Favorite story I wrote: Oh, maybe my Avengers library AU, Judging By The Cover? I’m sure that I have improved as a writer since then but the premise is obviously very near and dear to my heart. Also I feel like I’m doing my part to get the word out about how ridiculous publisher pricing for library ebooks is!

Story you were nervous to post: All of them? Any time something is meant as a gift fic I’m always very nervous about if the recipient will like it. I was nervous to post Baking Bad, which is of course a Breaking Bad coffeeshop AU fic, because it’s such a goofy premise for such a Serious Canon (compared to when I write weird shit for comics and comics-adjacent fandoms, which like, I’m never going to write anything as weird as the shit in comics). But nobody like, bullied me out of Breaking Bad fandom for it, so that was fine. Also The Winter Smizer, which was not only a gift fic but also a gift fic that the recipient paid money for (in a charity auction) and also a pairing (Steve/Bucky) I’ve never written for and also a cracky premise (America’s Next Top Model AU). Ack!

How do you choose your titles: 50% song lyrics, 50% single word/short phrase/pun that relates to the central theme of the story?

Do you outline: For longer stories, kind of?

How many stories: 153 posted to AO3 :O 840,267 words :O

Do you take prompts: I don’t not take them? I’m always flattered when anyone wants to read more of something I wrote! But some prompts will ping my brain in a way that inspires me to write them very quickly and some don’t.

Story you are most excited to write: @godlessondheimite & I started outlining a story to co-write that I’m very excited about!

Tag Five Fanfic Authors to Answer These Questions (as always, zero pressure!): Trammel tagged most of the folks I would have, but I’ll add @godlessondheimite @fourteenacross @ellewritesfiction @kimmycup and, of course, anyone else who feels like doing this!

#meme #writing #dumb stuff i make up

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mass-convergence · 5 years

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I’ve been thinking about this a lot and I want to compare the Girl Power(TM) moments of Infinity War vs Endgame and explore why I felt one was better than the other. (Typing this on my phone so I’m gonna be using a few acronyms here to depict hero names)

Aka: dear marvel, putting more women in a shot does nothing if there’s no organic reason for them to suddenly be buddy buddy or even suddenly end up on the same spot of an incredibly chaotic battlefield at the same time. I get that this is a comic book movie with purple aliens and glowing stones of destiny but still, the scene felt forced.

In Infinity War there was a moment when Scarlet Witch entered the battle and Proxima Midnight (who I kept mistaking her voice for ScarJo’s but that’s another story) was all like “Kay I’m gonna kill you now you’re all alone” then from off screen we hear “she’s not alone” and cut to Black Widow and Okoye standing there about to fuck a bitch up. Enter a rather intimate (in terms of it being mostly hand-to-hand close quarters, nothing much was distracting them as they were isolated from the rest of the battle being in a trench) fight scene and a “that was gross” quip from BW covered in blue alien blood after the battle. It felt like a good scene. BW and Okoye have interacted before, BW and SW are both Avengers and I’m guessing friends because of that. They know each other, they have rapport. Most importantly, they had a reason to interact and it would make sense that they could have met up on the battle field, the battle was concentrated around that one shield wall Black Panther ordered down. They were women being there for each other and it made sense in the context of the battle. They were already spatially close enough to each other to notice if one was in trouble and be able to assist.

And then came Endgame. The battle was chaotic with essentially two armies duking it out on a large scale in the crater of the Avengers compound. Portals everywhere, lasers flying around, explosions, chitauri and whatever those other alien monsters were are like killing and being killed in droves. I have no idea where anyone is. Captain America is swinging around Mjolnir, Iron Man and Pepper Pots/RESCUE are like being the ultimate battle couple, Ant Man and Wasp were doing something idk I’ve only seen this movie once, but you get the point - This battle was HUGE, spread out, and very chaotic.

Oh and they were playing Keep Away with the infinity gauntlet. Enter Captain Marvel who destroys the ship, has a brief moment of levity with Peter Parker, and That Moment comes. “I don’t know how you’re going to get past all that” “she’s got help”. No idea who said it, only seen this movie once so i forgot. Suddenly all the women of the battle had converged on this one point like moths to a light (I mean Carol DOES glow). Decided to just look at each other like “yeah we got a job to do” and off they went kicking ass or something. Parker completely drops out, none of the other hundreds of people on that battle field come to help. Lasted maybe a few minutes before Grape Man came back to center stage and that moment felt so forced. They didn’t really accomplish anything. Like legit, take that scene out and just have Captain Marvel actual Running Back for the Avengers Football Team taking that gauntlet by herself in all her glowing glory and like, nothing would have changed? The scene was forced in there to make a Girl Power moment and for me, while in the movie I was caught up in the moment and was like “fuck yeah” I still felt bothered by it because it felt so forced. I know it meant a lot to people and honestly it meant something to me too. I want to see these women team up more, i want them to be friends, I want them to save the day and not be in a throw away scene, i want an A-Force movie. I want enough women representation in the MCU that a) all the named female characters don’t fit into one shot and b) it doesn’t feel like some kind of “hey we’re progressive” token scene. I loved and hated that scene. The feeling is very much ambivalent

To very VERY loosely paraphrase Lindsay Ellis in her video about Pocahontas vs Moana: Am I going to say that we should sacrifice some little girl seeing this scene of powerful women working together and feeling empowered by it? Not really. But that’s why we need more positive respresentation and not just throw away scenes like this.

In conclusion: ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ don’t get me started on Black Widow in this movie (though tbh, I think the death was okay for her arc, I’m just not happy with how the MCU’s treated her character in the past). Gamora’s death in IW was stupider.

#endgame #infinity war #avengers #black widow #natasha romanoff #wasp #hope van dyne #valkyrie #pepper potts #captain marvel #okoye #scarlet witch #wanda maximoff #mantis #gamora #nebula #shurri #tbh I want an A force movie now but im also worried about what fuckery would take place #if there is one get Patti Jenkins to direct it

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nandalorian · 6 years

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OCD Marvel Costume Series: Black Widow

Ever since I did that post about Captain America’s theoretical onesie and the evolution of his costume, I’ve gotten a lot of requests to do a similar OCD breakdown analysis about Black Widow’s.

After Cap and Bucky, Widow’s easily my favourite MCU character, so I am all too happy to break it down. But just know this required me to wade through so many disgusting male comments about her costume and body that I wanted to flip my desk and set it on fire. Repeatedly. You’re welcome.

Here are the six costumes I’ll be looking at from 2010-2018.

From L to R: Iron Man 2, Avengers, Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Avengers: Age of Ultron, Captain America: Civil War, and Avengers: Infinity War.

Putting the rest under a read more because shit’s gonna get long.

Let’s begin: Iron Man 2.

This is the first time we meet Natasha in the MCU franchise, and I don’t know about you guys, but I remember there being a LOT of hype surrounding Scarlett being cast in a totally non-objectifying way. <_<

Just kidding. Here’s actual footage of every straight man watching/starring in Iron Man 2 when Nat’s on screen:

This, I think, is a good place to add a caveat that it’s difficult to address Natasha’s looks and clothing without sounding like I’m criticizing her appearance and sexuality, including her ability to weaponize those things or the fact that she is entitled to enjoy them in any way she likes. As a character, certainly she is, and to me that’s one of the really interesting aspects of her personality and an incredible skill. As a woman, those are things not worthy of criticizing, IMO. But the films present a grey area because they are all directed by men, and to a large extent for men. So it’s hard to find the line between what is meant to entice audiences and what is meant to tell us something important about who Nat is, and to what extent the latter is the original intent of the costume choices. How do you extricate the character from the male gaze when the male gaze permeates so much of comic book culture, and by extension the MCU? Let’s not forget how many gratuitous ass shots there are of Natasha in a given movie, although the Russos generally do a good job of evening the playing field by liberally sprinkling in plenty of Cap ass shots too. The Russos are like the salt baes of equal-opportunity and gender-neutral ass shots.

But back to Natasha. In Iron Man 2, she spends most of the movie in sexy wiggle dresses or low-cut blouses, presenting herself as an object of desire for all the men in the film (possibly some of the women) and a thorn in Pepper Potts’s side until they join forces against Tony. (Obviously her intention, since Natasha weaponizes everything about herself, but it was also pretty clearly for audience titillation as much as the character never does anything by accident.)

But then, surprise! It’s revealed she’s the Black Widow and capable of kicking more ass than just about anyone else in the film/on the planet, and can even do it in a skintight catsuit and crazy hair flying in her face at all times!

Natasha’s suit is probably the least functional in this movie because it’s designed to look like a sexy female comic book hero costume, not something a real agent would wear in a believable conflict situation. Or maybe they would, I don’t know. I’m not a spy. But objectively speaking, she has a totally useless belt with the Black Widow symbol around her middle, then the tactical belt, holsters, etc. The fabric looks shiny and stretchy but isn’t leather. That being said, you can’t get much more spot on in terms of the visual interpretation, if you look at how she’s drawn by J Scott Campbell. I am not positive whether IM2 Widow is an interpretation of this artist’s illustration or vice versa, but either way, she translates from film to comic and back again pretty flawlessly.

Just don’t even get me started on the hair because w h a t. Tell me you can’t hear it crackling when you look at this gif. Go on, I dare you.

No wonder ScarJo switched to wigs after this movie.

Ironically, even though this costume is pretty ridiculous in terms of offering any kind of practicality or protection from bullets/knives/explosions, I have to point out that Iron Man 2 is the only movie where Black Widow actually wears practical footwear.

Look at those things. Those are flat, FUNCTIONAL boots. You could do all the running, jumping, and punching things you wanted and not feel like your goddamn feet were going to fall off, or worse, plant you on your fucking face because you’re wearing heels into combat. RIP flat Widow boots.

Moving on. Avengers 1.

Much like the other costumes in this film, Natasha’s outfit is still pretty comic book-y, although to a less cartoonish extent than Captain America some. That is pretty much Joss Whedon’s trademark as a director, although shockingly, I felt Widow looked more serious and ready for battle. Alexandra Byrne did the costume design on Avengers and Ultron, as well as Thor and Guardians of the Galaxy (hence the trademark styles in A1 and A2, plus similarities between Natasha and Gamora’s costumes), and she has a distinct touch. Here the nods to practicality include less extravagant hair (though Natasha also has short hair plenty of times in the comics) and the fact that her suit looks like it could deflect a knife (possibly). Even her civilian clothing looks less hyperfeminine than that of Iron Man 2, and it’s here we begin to see that Nat’s outfit of choice is usually some combination of jeans, a jacket, and knee-high boots with a small heel. It always strikes me that this is probably what she’s most comfortable in when she’s not dressed as Black Widow. Even her stance here looks like that of a soldier, less of a stereotypically female pose.

I couldn’t help but feel a lot of this was intentional on Whedon’s part in order to avoid anyone accusing him of sexualizing Natasha and to look like a Real Director Who Takes Female Characters Seriously (TM). So he dresses women more realistically but then just assassinates their character in other ways, as you do. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

As far as her suit is concerned, don’t get me wrong: it’s still textured plastic meant to stretch and allow movement and comfort and cling to certain... assets... and they still haven’t gotten rid of her totally useless Widow belt. But at least she looks a bit more like she means business and less like she’s just there to look hot.

However, in this film they also introduced the infamous heels to her costume.

In the immortal words of Shuri:

Like Cap’s ab window, this is one of those design choices I begrudgingly understand from a movie perspective--it looks ~sexier and ~more feminine and also reduces the height difference between ScarJo and her male costars (plus other female characters like Agent Hill wear heels too, and so does Wonder Woman in the DC franchise. They appear in the Black Widow comics too), but the reality of someone willingly wearing heels in this type of environment makes me want to facepalm real bad. Sure, you can argue fighting in heels is just one of Nat’s special abilities that makes her better than the rest of us, but--that’s probably not why.

And they don’t go away, even when the movie and writing quality drastically improves. Anyone who read my post on Cap’s suits will probably be able to guess that The Winter Soldier is my #1 Marvel film and had some of my favourite costumes in the MCU, and Nat is no exception there.

The way the Russos interpret her, through their writing and their vision for the overall look of the film and the way the costumes are designed (Judianna Makovsky did all the costumes for Winter Soldier, Civil War, and Infinity War, which makes total sense in ways I’ll explain in a moment), also reminds me a bit of Phil Noto and Nathan Edmonson’s Black Widow. Plenty of people might be inclined to disagree with me there, I’m sure, but Noto and Edmonson’s series, tonally and visually, is very similar to TWS in the sense that they feel like political thrillers, and the character styling in the film continues that theme. The story and the way the characters are written and styled crosses genres and blurs the line between comic book, thriller, and real life.

In TWS, Nat looks like a fucking badass, but also somehow more relatable and human despite her perfect hair and flawless skin. TWS was the film where she, for me (along with the rest of the cast, especially Steve), went from being a character to being a person with all the shades of greys, uncertainties, and ambiguities that entails. That’s where the Russos excel, making fictional characters come alive with nuance and layers. Kind of like how you know if they had done a Hawkeye movie, they’d have probably adapted Hawkeye #19.

Their unique way of finding the humanity in comic book characters and situating them in the real world translates interestingly through the costumes. Even her hair is the most natural-looking shade of copper red than any of the other films, where it tends to looks more dyed. Trust me, as someone who spent 9 years trying to achieve the perfect and most natural shade of copper red possible, I know how difficult it is to get right, even if this is obviously a wig.

If you look reeeeal close at the above pic, you can tell she’s graduated from stretchy plastic to something that resembles kevlar or some kind of protective utility material. You can just make out the lines and texture in the fabric. Still stretches and lets her move, obviously still skintight, but upgrades her to a higher degree of real-world believability in the same way the stealth suit did for Cap.

I find the back of her suit interesting too. There’s a panel sewn over her butt that looks identical to the full-seat equestrian breeches I wear riding, which are meant to offer reinforcement and grip. I’m not entirely sure why Nat needs either of those things in combat, but there you have it. (In all seriousness, it could be because the fabric they used is less stretchy or doesn’t hold its shape the same way, so they had to piece it together differently to allow for movement and shape retention through all the stunts.)

Actually, scratch that. Why wouldn’t you need reinforcement and grip when doing this?

Weird butt panel notwithstanding, Nat’s TWS suit also introduces more protective details like leather and sewn-in kneepads, and her Widow belt actually serves to cinch in the costume instead of just sit there pointlessly, leaving her with just the tac belt. Still the dumb heels too, but I promise I’ll get over it. Maybe.

Next: Age of Ultron. People are going to side-eye the shit out of me for saying this, but... Widow’s costume continues to be less ridiculous than, say, Cap’s. Cartoonish, yes, with a lot of frankly baffling design choices, and visually I liked it the least. But weirdly enough, the construction of the suit and the fabric is less ridiculous than it seems at first glance; it looks like it’d actually offer a pretty high degree of protection in the field. Check it out.

There’s a matte leather and a similar kevlar/utility fabric as her suit in TWS, and the Widow belt and the tac belt have been combined into one so there are fewer pointless buckles.

I mean, too bad they ruin it by adding glowing blue parts that make her look like she’s about to go cosplay as Tron as soon as she finishes saving the world, and I will never understand why her gauntlets are suddenly red, but a detail that caught my eye is right on the bodice. See those seams under her bust?

It looks like it could be there just to draw attention to her boobs, but as a former fencer, I can tell you those are almost certainly for a chest plate or removable protective cups. (From a movie costuming perspective, they’re probably to give the bust more definition, as that’s literally an underwire construction. Yes, okay, I realize this. But if we consider the character, a chest plate makes far more sense.) And if you are a woman in a combat situation where you’re getting whacked in the tits a bunch of times, you need a fucking chest plate. She doesn’t appear to be wearing one in the other films, which is as absurd as Cap going into battle without wearing a cup. Have you ever been clocked in the tits before? With a weapon, no less? Because I have, and it’s not fun. It happens to you once, and you’re on Amazon buying a chest plate or protective cups literally the next day. Or, you know, from the toilet immediately after as you sit there crying and cradling your poor bruised boobs.

Another really practical detail is that she has proper kneepads in this costume, which is ideal if you’re sliding around on the ground a lot, or taking hard landings.

BUT WHY DO THEY GLOW IN THE DARK? /despair

Oddly enough, Nat’s suit in Captain America: Civil War was one of my least favourites--initially. But I was wrong to feel that way, and I’ll tell you why. Why didn’t I like it at first? Well, they pick up some of the same details as in TWS and add other more practical things like no-nonsense kneepads, but they also seem to add boning to the bodice of the suit, and lots of piping everywhere on the arms and torso that would probably rub unpleasantly if you were moving around that much. Unnecessary seams=friction. That’s a lesson any equestrian will tell you too.

I also was not a fan of the Farah Fawcett vibe I got from her hair, but that could just be me. Her suit here is functional, overall, but it doesn’t reinvent the wheel or make her look sleek and dangerous in the same way as TWS. It has less... style than her other suits and civilian outfits (which were my fave in this film), and after this many movies, I think we’ve come to associate the Black Widow suit with style and making certain death at her hands/thighs look good.

But there is a point to her suit looking more tactical, which you can better see here. From this angle, she looks almost military, certainly the most military of any of the other films, and that is intentional and significant later on.

Because much like Cap’s uniform carries over to Infinity War, so does Nat’s. That was a clever segue, in case you were wondering.

This is such a departure from anything else Nat wears in the other films that you kind of have to tip your hat at the designer and the Russos and Judianna Makovsky for having such a sharp eye for detail and a knack for letting costume tell a story. Not only does Natasha change her hair and eyebrow colour, but she changes the colour of her suit too, adding in some green and almost entirely eliminating the sex appeal of the other Widow costumes. But the continuity is most impressive of all.

It’s hard to tell, but just like Steve is wearing the same uniform as in Civil War, minus the star he clawed off with his bare hands, Nat is wearing the exact same Widow costume with a tactical vest on top and some new body armour (shoulder and elbow pads). Remember that piping on the arms, legs, and bodice I bitched about a second ago? If you look closely, it’s all clearly visible in the same spots, and it’s obvious the vest just goes over top. Her kneepads and boots are the exact same too. This girl did a complete 180 on her look with nothing more than a tac vest and an emergency appointment with Guy Tang for some blonde balayage.

It’s amazing that Steve and Sam think going incognito involves DIY distressing on their uniforms and growing some playoff beards, but Natasha can become an entirely different person just by changing a few key details. Especially the eyebrows. I once wrote a line in a fic about how her lighter eyebrows in Infinity War totally change the shape of her face. I think that’s a detail everyone noticed in the trailers, how strange she looked with those ultrablonde brows. But that’s perfect for this character and something Nat would intuitively pick up on, because it leaves her almost unrecognizable. Just like makeup can subtly change someone’s face shape, so can eyebrows, but she ditches makeup in Infinity War to the same effect. It’s the makeover equivalent of “walk, don’t run.” Kind of amazing to think she is so many steps ahead of everyone else that she can go down Dick’s Sporting Goods and CVS for nothing more than a tac vest and a box of hair dye, respectively, and literally emerge looking like a different person. When she says she’s figuring out a new cover, this is the stuff she means.

So there you have it. I hope this costume breakdown as as fun for you to read as it was to put together, and I continue to be impressed and occasionally stumped by the design choices made by the MCU costuming departments. They really do know their stuff and how important clothing is to the understanding of a character, and Nat, who is a master of tailoring her look for maximum effect, proves this rule more than almost anyone else.

Thanks for reading! I might tackle Bucky next, so stay tuned.

#natasha romanoff #black widow #avengers #captain america #natasha romanov #marvel #mcu #costuming #costume #fashion #long post

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