Captive in Angband, Maedhros finds himself in a very odd situation; A plaything for Melkor's moods, used by every denizen of the fortress for their own ploys, and unwittingly part of a lovers spat between the Dark Lords. There is no way for him to escape unscathed or for Angband to be left unchanged.
They looked up at him as Maglor entered the sick room, Fingon beside Maedhros, as always, though he was carefully not touching any part of their bodies together and the blankets bunched thickly between them.
Maglor set the bowl of warm broth down on the table beside the bed, with a plain spoon, rounded and undecorated and unable to hurt anyone. Maedhros did not often use the spoon, clumsy as he was with his left hand and unused to holding anything.
He went to the window and drew the curtains, shrouding the room in shadows. He was always drawing them for Maedhros’s comfort, and Fingon was always opening them to ‘let in some of the sun’s healing rays’.
Fingon stood, awkwardly eyeing Maglor in that way that told him there would be a long discussion of his brother’s progress soon to follow. At least he still took his cue to leave them to it, and shut the door behind him. Maedhros had told him it was hard to eat with him watching.
A purely self-indulgent Ten x Reader fic because I just love Ten so much okay! (gif made by me)
Let me know what you think!
Read on ao3
Tagging some people I’ve recently followed who I think might like it: @denaliwrites @tatennant @doctor-donnaa @quite-right-too @theetherealbloom @my-lonely-angel @casasupernovas @kbishop @tennant @raining-stars-somewhere-else @davidtennan-t
Ten x Reader, she/her/hers pronouns, one use of Y/N
(Sorry if this causes pain especially since it’s the last episode with Fourteen and David Tennant as The Doctor today. Wishing everyone so much love and hope you can cope with the pain we will all be experiencing in 5 hours!)
They bumped into each other.
Literally.
He wasn’t looking where he was going, just trying to focus on not collapsing in the street before he could make it back to the TARDIS, and she was coming out of a shop.
This was almost the end.
He could feel it.
He felt it when he saw Rose but he couldn’t let go.
Not yet.
He had one more stop.
He wanted to be near where she lived.
He just wanted to be near her.
One last time.
He didn’t want to wipe her memory but he had to.
It wasn’t like it was with Donna but he knew that one day she would die because of him and he didn’t want that.
He couldn’t bear the thought.
It had to be done so she could live and she never would have left of her own accord. She would never leave him willingly so what other choice did he have?
Especially after trying to change time and becoming The Time Lord Victorious. Look how that turned out.
Adelaide Brooke still died only it was his fault instead of it being an accident.
“Oh shit! Sorry! I should have been looking where I was going!” A voice said.
“No, it’s m-” He knew that voice. His luck really was great(!)
He must’ve paused for a beat too long because she spoke again. “Are you okay? Did I hurt you?”
That was her all over. Always worrying and caring about others (him especially).
“Yeah! I’m fine!” He replied, trying to sound nonchalant. “Just feeling a bit under-the-weather. Winter and all, you know?” His voice didn’t sound like him. It was nervous, slightly high-pitched, and shook a little. He hoped that she didn’t know that there was something wrong.
“I know. You might want to invest in some actual winter clothes though to keep you warm. Converse and winter are not the best combination,” she laughed, looking him up and down at his unusual (to her now anyway) attire.
He could’ve cried and hugged her at hearing the jibe she’s told him multiple times while travelling with him. Instead, he forced himself to laugh and smile at her.
“Yeah, I suppose I should. Maybe one day,” he replied, scratching the back of his neck. A habit that he had developed when he was nervous.
She would have noticed and usually tried to comfort him. But not now. The thought made his hearts ache.
“Sorry but do I know you?” She asked, staring at him with a slight frown. His hearts leapt into his throat. “You just seem so familiar. What’s your name?”
He quickly composed himself before replying with a classic phrase. “No, sorry, I don’t think you do. I guess I just have one of those faces. Name’s David. David Smith.”
She had told him to stop with the John Smith alias as “no-one believes that’s your name. I may as well call myself Jane Doe.” So he had changed it as soon as he wiped her mind. Just in case he ever saw her again and the name John Smith made her remember.
“David…” She trailed off, as if she was trying to place the name, still slightly frowning until the crease between her eyebrows eased. “I guess you do just have one of those faces. Sorry about that,” she finished, smiling sheepishly.
He mentally released a breath that he didn’t realise he was holding.
“No worries,” he replied, smiling to try to ease her embarrassment that he knew she was feeling.
She may not remember him but he still knew her like the back of every hand he’s ever had.
They stood there for a few moments, longer than two seemingly strangers should, just smiling at each other before she looked away, a light blush colouring her already flushed cheeks from the cold.
His hearts ached again and pain filled his entire being.
He would never get to see her blush from embarrassment due to looking at him for too long again.
“I should probably go before the snow gets worse,” she said.
He looked around and noticed that the snow had started to get heavier since they had been talking.
“Of course. Get home safe.” His voice cracked. Home should be in the TARDIS with him.
“You too. Before you go,” she said, putting a hand on his arm as he was turning the leave.
He could feel the pain of having to leave her almost bring him to his knees due to feeling her touch again. It had felt so long since he had felt that and he never wanted her to stop.
He would never feel her comforting touch or her hand in his again and he was starting to break
She was rummaging through her bag and took out a blue scarf. TARDIS blue.
“Here,” she said softly as she leaned up on her tip toes and wrapped it around his neck. “I don’t know why but I just bought this. It’s not really my thing and I don’t have anyone else to give it to but there was something in my mind that urged me to buy it. Maybe this was fate,” she chuckled. “There! Looks great!” She grinned, smoothing out the scarf and his breath caught as her fingers grazed the back of his head.
“Thank you," he responded quietly, tears filling his eyes “Truly. Thank you.” He took her hands in his and kissed the back of them.
“You’re very welcome,” she said, just as quietly as him, and blushed once more.
He let go of her hands and took a step back. He swore that he saw disappointment on her face at that.
He didn’t have time to dwell on it for too long as she had thrown her arms tightly around his waist and pressed her face into his chest, taking a deep breath of him in.
He wasn’t sure if his hearts had stopped completely or if they were beating so fast that he couldn’t feel them beating properly anymore.
He wrapped his arms around her and kissed the top of her head, taking in the familiar and comforting scent.
The hug ended as quickly as it had started but before he could feel too disappointed, she had placed her hands on his shoulders, almost wrapping her arms around his neck like the scarf was, and pressed her lips to his cheek.
She stepped back and smiled brightly at him
“Merry Christmas, Doctor,” she said as she walked away.
He was frozen.
Did she just-?
Could she-?
No.
She couldn’t remember him.
Could she?
His brain was working faster than normal.
“Merry Christmas, Y/N,” he called after her before he knew was he was doing.
She briefly turned back and waved, that beautiful smile still on her lips, lighting up her whole face.
“Merry Christmas, my love,” he whispered, turning the corner as quickly as he could to find the TARDIS before him.
He could feel the old girl humming happily in his head and he smiled at her in return.
The image of his love didn’t leave his mind.
Not even as he noticed Ood Sigma.
Not even as he started to feel the pain of death returning.
Even when the Ood started singing to him and he felt himself burning, he could still see her.
Her smile bright and warm, helping him find peace.
At last.
~ A few streets away ~
“Huh. That was weird,” she said out loud.
Shrugging, she entered a café, still smiling and felt a warmth that travelled deep into her soul.
He's an manipulative creature seeking only his own benefit and revenge (I think we all like this one tbh)
He's a creature of magic who is intertwined with fate, and who is not concerned with the affairs of humans except where they brush up against destiny.
And honestly, I think the second one is more plausible, if not perfect. Here's why:
Kilgharrah constantly does give Merlin advice that would have changed fate (kill the druid boy. Don't tell Morgana the full extent of her powers. Let Uther die. Etc.). Only, he gives it to Merlin and expects Merlin to interpret it like he would, because to him both of them are fundamentally creatures of magic. The only problem is: Merlin goes about it like a human, because while he may be magic incarnate, he's also human. He was raised like one, he lives among them, and he thinks like one.
The thing is - Kilgharrah is shown this constantly. He is shown time after time, that Merlin is more human than a creature of magic. And yet he still gives his advice in this way. Which leaves me with another conclusion - Kilgharrah always meant for Camlann to happen. Not because he's evil, or wants revenge, but because it is pre-ordained. Because here's the thing: none of the prophecies were specifically blocked from happening. All of them are still waiting to be fulfilled. They've just sort of been put on hold for a couple thousand years.
So that means, it's possible (and in my mind, likely) that there are more prophecies Kilgharrah never shared. Prophecies that stated what would happen at Camlann. Prophecies that said Arthur was doomed. I mean, he knew about the Once and Future thing, so why not this? This points to a conclusion that Kilgharrah deliberately orchestrated all of what happened throughout the series. Every moment, was worked out carefully. He gave Merlin instructions in that way because he knew it would lead to Merlin going against them, which would set in motion the events leading to Camlann.
Kilgharrah wasn't on Merlin's side. Nor was he on Morgana's, or anyone's. He was a servant of prophecy, and only cared about humans in the ways that they could help fulfil it. He manipulated everyone and everything he could reach to ensure it would happen.
And maybe that meant Camlann. Maybe that meant ensuring that Arthur would die in Merlin's arms.
Okay, yesterday I had a shared brain riot with @just-sp-in-inginthevoid about Kakucho not having a real birthday and the s62 throwing him unbirthday mad tea parties. More of once in a year because, hey, it's an unbirthday! Mostly because the Haitani brothers wanted a excuse to be extras and dress up, but also because they decided it was a funny way of trying to find out his real birthday (of course, Izana was the one that decided the official date).
In some way, this is the second part of this drabble here. What could be at least in Bonten!timeline.
Kakucho used to loves his unbirthdays. Before everything changed.
(Drabble of Kakucho during Bonten. There is some subtle KakuIza, but it's just a tinny moment easy to ignore and see it as platonic)
Warnings: Angst and hurt without too much comfort. I'm so sorry, I swear the idea was hilarious in my mind, but then Bonten timeline appeared and it refused to not be angsty. So yeah, I'm so sorry, Kakucho 😭
(English is not my first language, so be nice please 🙈)
"Happy unbirthday!"
Kakucho almost jumped when Ran, Rindou and Mochi screamed at him as soon as he entered his office.
He just sighed, because of course, he should've know better. It was Februart 1st, he's official "unbirthday".
But the scarred man thought, that now that they were all adults (and criminals, for god's sake), this surprises parties were over. Or at least, the costumes were over. He should've know better, Ran and Rindou missing a chance to dress up and be weirdos? Not in a million years. Even the poor Mochi was wearing some ridiculous bunny-ears.
"I'm not going to wear a costume, so don't even try it."
Kakucho managed to say as soon as he saw Ran's mischievous smile. Rindou looked disappointed, but the two brothers quickly shrugged that off. They tried every time, but no even Izana himself could make Kakucho dress with an "Alice" costume.
Oh yeah, his unbirthday parties had a theme. Always the same one. A mad tea party in Alice in Wonderland. But the Haitani brothers always wore a different costume. Every damn time. They could repeat characters, but outfit? Never.
Chesire Cat Ran smiled at him, not caring about his grumpy attitude.
"Come on, Kakucho, we deserve some fun. So sit down and drink your tea, before I decide this was a fiasco and we need to throw you another party soon"
Kakucho shivered with the idea. No thanks, he still remembered that times (He tried so hard to forger, yet, he still remembered everything). All the s62 generation throwing him a unbirthday party more than once a year. Because for some reason, the Roppongi rulers decided it was a good way of finding his real birthday. Ran was sure they would get it right eventually, Rindou was convinced that Kakucho would have a big reaction when they finally did it. Of course, both of them were wrong.
So, even if his "official" birthday was the date Izana decided for him, even if it was just supposed to be February 1st, he had more tea parties that he was able to count. Izana used to joke about how Kakucho was at least fourty with so many celebrations.
Maybe is that, he thought, the memory of Izana's laugh being too real for a second. Because now he finds himself smiling softly while drinking tea and eating cake with what's rest of his family. Mad Had Rindou is making jokes about Sanzu's insanity and Kakucho is laughing, he's actually enjoying this.
Kakucho had fun, even if they could only stole a couple hours for that. But he felt good for this hours, less alone. The reminder that there was still people with him that shared the same memories, the same grief. The left pieces of his broken family. Kakucho was not alone and his friends never failed to show him that when he needed it most.
Later that night, after finally finishing the job and cleaning everything up, Kakucho was unable to sleep. The memories were too present this time.
He still remembered the last umbirthday he was actually happy. A few days before the Kanto Incident. Even if everything was getting more dangerous, even with Kisaki's plots, with the raids on Toman, the Haitani brothers decided that it was the best day to do it.
Or maybe it was exactly because of that, who knows. Kakucho certainly needed to relax that day, he was tense with everything that was happening, with seeing that bastard manipulating Izana.
But that day, Izana shone. That day, Izana didn't talk about Mikey or Toman, focusing his full attention on his servant. He dressed up like the queen of hearts, like always. Refusing to wear any costume that didn't show how majestic he was. Kakucho thought the tanned boy always looked like a king no matter what he was wearing. But he never told him that. He never told him so many things...
Kakucho cries himself to sleep that night, curled up in his bed like a kid.
The image of Izana smiling at him printed on his retine.
Overlapping with the last time he ever saw Izana's genuine smile directed at him.
Snow threathening to fill his nightmares one more time.
Chapters: 2/?
Fandom: Arcane: League of Legends (Cartoon 2021)
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Relationships: Caitlyn/Vi (League of Legends), Claggor/OC
Characters: Vi (League of Legends), Vander (League of Legends), Powder, Jinx (League of Legends), Mylo (Arcane: League of Legends), Claggor (Arcane: League of Legends), Silco (Arcane: League of Legends), Sevika (Arcane: League of Legends), Caitlyn (League of Legends), Jayce (League of Legends), Viktor (League of Legends)
Additional Tags: AU, Arcane - Freeform, Original Characters - Freeform, Angst, Eventual Happy Ending, Adopted Sibling Relationship, Codependent Siblings, Hurt No Comfort, I can and did make it worse, canon complicit, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Violence, Eventual CaitVi
Series: Part 1 of How to Cheat an Arcane Curse
Summary:
Aka: How Not to Raise Your Dragon, The Price of Arthur's Happy Childhood.
----
“Thought I might find you here,” Vander called. Al sat up too quickly, banging his head on the metal of the bits of grate still there.
“Ow,” he mumbled. He looked up at Vander as the older man pulled himself up to the rooftop and offered him a hand. “How’d you know I was here?” He grabbed it and Vander pulled him out of the pipe.
“Your dad used to come up here,” Vander replied. “Figured I might as well start with his old haunts.” Al nodded. Vander leaned against one of the many pipes poking out of the roof and pulled out his pipe. “Got a light?”
“Yeah.” Al pulled his lighter out of his pocket and lit the pipe. He flipped the cap back on, the gold catching the green light of the chemlights. He tucked it safely back into his pocket.
“Thanks,” Vander said. Al nodded as Vander took a couple puffs. “We need to talk.”
Personally I wouldn't pay heed to stuff from Archanea to understand stuff from Awakening better. Awakening plays very little heed to the lore of Archanea and there's a tons of plot holes when they're viewed as one continuity.
A major thing to keep in mind is the creator of Archanea and the only one whom knows its mysteries is Shouzou Kaga, and he had zero involvement in Awakening. So again probably best to look at Awakening on its own merits.
That's generally how I approach it, myself! There are certainly fun things to try and weave between the titles -- Tiki's presence, for example, and what that means for the timeline in general -- but Awakening was written to be the swan song of the franchise. It has lots of little nods to previous entries in the name of homage, but I think it makes more sense to take it on its own merits -- for better and for worse -- than to force it into direct compliance with the canon of Shadow Dragon.
Many bittersweet burdens sank to the floor of Hera’s heart as she landed her faithful ship near a grassland clearing. A few weeks ago The Liberation of Lothal had been won at great cost, and several issues weighed her down.
Fallout.
Consequences.
Ezra.
Her chest tightened as she thought of the boy who was now a man, where it mattered most - in the choices he had made. Kanan would be so proud of him. Another pang echoed inside her. Kanan wasn’t here to be proud with her. That was the whole point of today. She closed her eyes to hold back the tears…
She drew a deep breath and let it out slowly. She and Chopper headed to the exit ramp and lowered it. They walked out into the summer evening’s light. The sweet smelling meadow grass swayed in the warm breeze. A petal was lifted off a flower and floated around before settling at her feet. Something was gently chirping nearby.
“Hera?” Sabine called softly, for she had promised to meet her here and walk with her. Zeb and everyone else was already ahead of them. One escort for the path was Taan tradition. Hera squinted as she stepped out, and spotted the young Mandolorian - and her outfit.
“Wow, Sabine,” Hera gasped a little.
“It’s a lot, I know…” Sabine said. Hera immediately crossed the small distance and hugged her.
“It’s beautiful. Kanan would be very, very honoured. He loved you too, so much.” Hera reassured her, then stepped back for another look.
Sabine was clean and pressed and red. Her hair was red. Her new kute was red. Her armour had been stripped down to the shiny beskar and repainted in red and only red. She was honouring her lost parent from head to toe. Sabine had described it to her, explained the meaning, but seeing the effect was different.
“You look good too,” Sabine whispered shakily.
Hera was wearing clothes Sabine had never had occasion to see. It had three main components. First, a set of layered tunics made from a gauzy, lightweight fabric in the colour of Ryloth’s sand. Second, tablet woven sashes that drew in the layers, at elbow and waist and such. These were in clan Syndulla colours. Finally, a wide strip of the same fabric of the tunics was gently wrapped around her head and lekku, held in place with smaller sashes at the ends of her lekku. This fabric was embroidered in the Ryloth language with all of the information on her Kalikori.
It was called the Buuai.
“Don’t take this the wrong way, but it seems a bit pretty for a funeral,” Sabine said.
“No offense taken,” Hera replied, and her mouth quirked…
They walked together in the path between the grasses, and came to the ceremony site that Ryder had arranged. Just over the hills, perhaps a kilometer or two away, was the glassy plateau where the Lothal temple had been. To the west was the village whose land this cemetery belonged to. In the center of the clearing was a massively tall tree, with broad limbs and leaves casting shade and standing guard. Hera and Sabine came to a stop. They were here. In front of them in two lines was the group of friends who had gathered together for closure.
Sabine and Chopper went ahead and took places in the lines. Everyone then stepped forward and raised their hands and joined them to create an arch. Hera stepped forward and walked through to the end. When she was at the other end they let go, stepped back, and turned to face forward and all sat down on the ground. Hera looked at the box in front of her, what had been found at ground zero, and sat down too before she could fall down. Ryder stood up to begin the speech.
“We are gathered here today to say goodbye to Kanan Jarrus, Jedi Knight…”
Later when it was over, and Kanan had been laid to rest, plaque put in place, and tears shed by all, Hera had walked back to the Ghost. Her friends were too good to leave her alone for long, but she wanted a moment to herself before heading to the place where a meal was prepared.
She stood in front of the mirror in her cabin, examining herself. It was a very versatile garment, meant to last a lifetime of occasions. The way the tunics were layered and the way the sashes were tied all had different meanings. Buuai meant ceremony, and just as funerals were one type, so were weddings.
She looked at herself in the mirror, and for the first time in a long time, she smiled, and a weight lifted.
Note: a bit ambiguous but Hera really is wearing the Buuai in the wedding style… because wearing it this way to a funeral is a custom reserved for the widow of the deceased. Follow this link for further notes, including a playlist to cry over :D
